


Ain't This Life So Sweet

by Ride4812



Series: Waiting on My Own Too Long [4]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-01-28 14:47:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12609000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ride4812/pseuds/Ride4812
Summary: The Fourth, and final, installment in the WOMOTL series.For Olga <3





	1. On the Eve

Mickey had naively believed that on the eve of their second anniversary he would be sharing his bed exclusively with Ian. As it turned out, he had no such luck. 

When they were teenagers, Mickey had felt compelled to keep Ian at arm’s length, worried that if he let himself tumble into tenderness, he’d end up in too deep to claw his way out. Unfortunately, he learned how right he was in prison. Eight years of sharing his bed with only a scratchy blanket had proven to him that he was ruined. Regardless of how much time passed, Mickey would always crave the way Ian’s body contoured to his, the rhythm of his breaths, the warmth of his skin. Sixteen years before, he didn’t realize the freckle-faced boy would be his forever, but he did know that somehow, everything had felt right in Ian’s scrawny arms. Reaching over to give his husband’s bicep a gentle squeeze, he grinned, he wasn’t scrawny anymore. 

“Hey,” he whispered in a tone loud enough to be considered a raspy exclamation. “I wanna fuck.”

“What time is it?” Ian croaked, pressing his fingers into his eye sockets and yawning. 

“Time to get the fuck in me,” Mickey replied, kicking the comforter off him and grabbing for the lube on the nightstand. “C’mon.”

“Shh,” Ian hissed, doing a crunch to smack his husband on the arm. “Shhh! Grumpy’s sleeping. He’s had a hard day.”

“He’s had a hard day,” Mickey repeated slowly, looking over the lazy lump of a dog that was sharing Ian’s pillow. 

“I’m serious. I took him for a run. We made it almost a half a mile before he started wheezing, which is progress, Mick. Remember I told you he could barely do a couple of blocks a few weeks ago. The training regimen is going well, but he’s so out of shape, it’s just going to take some time, you know?” He nuzzled his nose against the sleeping mutt’s. “But I’m patient with him. He needs patience.”

“I need some too,” Mickey muttered, glancing up at the ceiling. If he was a praying man, he would have requested more of the virtue, but alas, he was not. 

“He’s working really hard.”

“He still looks fat to me,” he pointed out, earning another smack from Ian. “What?”

“It’s going to take some time,” Ian chided. “The vet said dogs his age have really slow metabolisms. It makes sense. I mean, he was big when we got him, but he’s gotten chunkier with time. It’s not his fault.”

“He’s let himself go,” Mickey tsked, dodging the hit he knew was coming. “Seriously, as soon as we brought him home this motherfucker stopped caring about his figure. Am I right?”

“You’re an asshole,” Ian stated, matter-of-factly.

“Speaking of assholes, how about you fuck mine?”

“Go to Yev’s room. I’ll be there in a minute,” Ian directed, stretching his arms over his head and letting out a moan. 

“I’m not fucking in my kid’s bed.”

“He’s not here.”

“Walk this tub of lard in there then,” Mickey spat, gesturing to the now stirring dog. “He shits, doesn’t wipe his ass, and then sleeps with us. It’s gross.”

“He loves us. We’re all he has.” 

“You know why nobody on the South Side has dogs, Annie? Because we’re all trying to take care of ourselves and we don’t got time to take care of cockblocking, overweight mutts.”

“You’re so jealous of him,” Ian admonished, trying not to grin as Mickey climbed on top of him.

“Push him over so I can get in front of you, alright? Just rock me out and then I’ll shut the fuck up and let you two have the rest of the night together.”

“I want to enjoy the night with you,” Ian crooned, grasping handfuls of Mickey’s ass and pulling him in closer. 

They kissed hungrily, as if it was days, not hours, since they last tasted each other’s lips. Sometimes as they made out, Mickey allowed his mind to float back to first time he’d ever kissed Ian, recalling how his heart had pounded with anticipation, how he’d second guessed his decision until the moment he’d leaned over the driver’s seat to press their lips together. As soon as he’d taken that leap, he’d finally felt at peace, like everything was settled even though the turbulence had just begun. That feeling of stability hadn’t waned over the years, but got stronger the more they’d promised each other and had actually fulfilled. It felt like lifetimes since their not so innocent adolescence, but he still saw Ian as that painfully idealistic, driven and ambitious, corny joke telling kid that he’d fallen profoundly in love with in the alleys and dugouts of their youth.  
“I love you,” Mickey breathed, placing his palms on either side of Ian’s face as he gazed into tired green eyes. 

Overwhelmed by his emotions, Mickey was glad when Ian gently pushed him off so he was lying on his side and curled his body around him. Ian rested his lips on Mickey’s shoulder as he fumbled with the lube. The only thing better than being spooned, was being spooned while getting fingered by deft digits and the moans escaping Mickey’s mouth made sure that Ian knew his views on the matter.

“I love you, too,” Ian promised, craning his neck to slot their mouths together as he continued to work him open. Resting his free hand on the tattoo above Mickey’s heart, Ian hummed his appreciation at the husky grunts coming from his lover. Knowing Mickey’s body as well as his own, Ian removed his fingers and used his hand to line the head of his cock against his husband’s entry.

The pressure of the rock hard dick inching into him had Mickey’s body shuddering and then relaxing as Ian bottomed out. The redhead remained still for a moment, allowing Mickey to relish in the familiar feeling of being full. Their bodies moved in unison, rolling and swaying as fingers interlaced and legs entwined, melting together.

Throwing his head back to rest the crown on Ian’s chest, Mickey closed his eyes, so focused on the pleasure point his man was hitting inside him that he almost missed the strange whining sound that was filling the otherwise quiet room. “What the fuck?” he demanded, snapping his neck around in an attempt to look at Ian, who had already pulled out.

“We woke him,” Ian said, scratching an exhausted looking pooch behind his ears. “Sorry Grumpy Mickey.”

“Are you talking to me or him? Because I’m feeling pretty cranky right about now.”

“Your name isn’t Grumpy Mickey, is it Mikhailo?” Ian adjusted his dick and yelped an ‘ouch’ when Mickey gave him a hard spank on the ass. “Hey, baby. Why don’t you scoot over a little, okay?” he crooned, attempting to move the dog toward the edge of the bed. “Your daddies are busy having sex, but we’ll be done soon.” 

“I wasn’t even close,” Mickey corrected, “Don’t lie to the fucker.” He leaned over to look Grumpy in his unimpressed blue eyes. “We’re going to be a while, alright? You need to go chew on a bone or something so we can bone. Got it? You can come back in and sleep in your bed,” he pointed at the abandoned dog bed in the corner, “when we’re done.” 

Unsure if he imagine it, Mickey could swear that the dog lifted his eyebrows in challenge. 

“Grumps, is Yevvy here?” Ian asked, dropping his jaw excitedly. “Did you hear him? Is that Yevvy?”

The hebetudinous hound, mustered the energy to jump up and jog out of the bedroom to look for his favorite Milkovich. Not wasting a moment, Ian locked the door behind him and gave Mickey a mischievous grin as he climbed back into bed. 

“You’re such a liar,” Mickey laughed, looping his arms around Ian’s neck as the redhead positioned himself on top of him.

“I didn’t lie,” he smirked, “I asked him if it was Yevvy. I didn’t say that it was Yevvy.”

“I’m not complaining. Dude’s narcoleptic. He probably fell asleep on the way down the stairs.”

“Poor guy,” Ian pouted, as he pushed back into Mickey.

“You’re really broken up about it,” Mickey teased, wrapping his legs around Ian’s waist as he started to fuck him slowly. 

“I’ll go find him after I get you off,” he reasoned, leaning down to kiss the brunet while gradually picking up the pace of his thrusts. “You feel so good,” he sighed pressing his forehead against Mickey’s as he sunk in deeper. The soft screwing of moments before gave way to a headboard shaking, Earth shattering, fervent fucking.

“Get it,” Mickey mewled, his voice reverberating with the motion. “You're so goddamn thick, man,” he cried, biting his lip as Ian pounded away. 

“Fuck.”

“You love when I stretch you out,” Ian grunted, forcefully slamming into Mickey over and over again. “You fucking love this big dick, don’t you Mick? You fucking love it.”

“Yes. I fucking love it, yes,” he chanted as Ian grabbed around his neck and shifted his pace, rolling his hips to deliver long, hard strokes straight to his prostate. 

“I fucking love you,” Ian sighed. “Can you believe it’s been two years tomorrow? Our wedding feels like yesterday.”

“I love you too,” Mickey moaned, his body shaking from the pleasure. 

“Doesn’t it feel like yesterday? The park? The Carlton? Champagne? The jacuzzi?” He started to laugh. “You gave me so much shit about that.”

“I remember,” Mickey grunted. “Focus on the fucking, alright?”

“I’m reminiscing,” he protested, struggling to keep his rhythm. “It was the happiest day of my life. I love reliving it. Don’t you?” He groaned when Mickey tightened his muscles around him.

“Of course I do. We can talk about it all night if you want to, okay baby? Just finish me off.” He smiled when Ian got back to business. “Yeah, just like that.”

Dropping his hand down to jerk his cock, Mickey bit his lip while his husband concentrated on fucking him over the edge. The redhead wasn’t far behind, emptying into his ass with a cry. 

“Mmm,” Ian crooned, collapsing onto Mickey’s sticky chest and holding him tightly. 

“Yeah, mmm,” Mickey agreed, kissing his head. 

“You were always a grade-A fucker, but I swear you’re getting better with age, man.”

“You’re lucky that you vowed to get old with me then. Imagine how good I’m gonna be at ninety.”  
Mickey chuckled while running his fingers through damp red hair. “You’ll probably break your hip trying to give it to me hard.”

“That’s how I’d like to go out. Making a valiant effort to get you off.” Ian lifted his head and smiled wide. “And I want you to put it in my obituary: ‘Ian died doing what he loved the most -his husband.’”

“Don’t talk like that,” Mickey chided, tussling the other man’s hair. “Aren’t we supposed to be talking about other shit anyway?”

“What other shit?”

“Our wedding night or whatever.”

“Yeah,” he grinned, clearly happy Mickey brought it back up. 

“Do you wanna go get Grumpy before or after?”

“He’s not complaining,” Ian decided, shimmying so he was beside Mickey, holding him close. “Let’s start at the Bachelor party, you were shocked....”

“I was,” Mickey agreed, pecking his husband’s lips. 

“It was an awesome surprise.”

“Your face lit up.”

“Doesn’t it always when I look at your goofy face, Gallagher?”

“Milkovich,” Ian corrected. 

“Doesn’t it always when I look at your goofy face, Milkovich?”

It always did.


	2. Glorious Glutes

Ian couldn’t help but be frustrated that for the second year in a row, he and Mickey weren’t able to spend their anniversary together. The fourteenth falling on a Friday ensured that Ian’s day was jam packed with clients and Mickey’s night was booked with a society dinner at the Field Museum of Natural History. The catering company was busier than ever, and as much as Ian had hated working at FIG, he missed the stolen kisses and fleeting touches with Mickey in the kitchens of convention centers. The opportunity for that type of connection throughout a shift was something that their separate work environments squandered, and fuck if he didn’t regret leaving sometimes. 

Still, Ian loved his job. He had always known that he wanted to have a career in which he could help people, but after the army and emergency medical services imploded, he wasn’t sure he would ever find one. While he helped lonely old dudes get off as a stripper, that wasn’t as fulfilling to him as it had been for them. The opportunity to get into personal training had been serendipitous for Ian and had finally allowed him to feel like he was doing what he was meant to do all along. Not only did training allow him to change his clients’ lives for the better, he also felt it kept him on the right path. He refrained from having a drink here or there, barely craved cocaine, and never missed a dose of his medication. He was driven to be a model of exemplary health, and he was. Ian took care of his body as well as he took care of Mickey’s, exceptionally well indeed.

“Hey Ian,” Sage greeted from behind the glass welcome desk. “How’s it going?”

“Great,” he smiled, leaning on the counter. “How are you? Escaping from child care for the day?”

“Yup. Mac challenged my sanity to an alarming extent yesterday and I told my dad if he didn’t throw me on the desk, I would throw myself off the L.”

“We wouldn’t want that.”

“Nope. Who would keep this place running?” she questioned with a mischievous grin. 

“I’m going to tell Robert you said that,” Ian warned playfully. “I think he’s still under the illusion he’s in charge.”

“Delusion,” Sage corrected. “The moment my dads brought me home from the hospital they forfeited all power.” She held up her pinky. “It’s all right here now.”

“That’s a mighty finger right there.”

“You know it.” She nodded. “You have a packed day beginning with a new client at 9:00am and she is quite the VIP.”

“Oh yeah?”

Sage nodded. “Do you watch Channel 4 Action News?” 

“Nope.”

“Well, Connie Cotania, who just so happens to be the top investigative reporter in the Midwest and the face of Action News will now be entrusting her glorious glutes to you.” 

“Glorious glutes?” Ian repeated. “Is that her thing?”

“If it isn’t, it should be,” Sage shrugged. “The girl’s got it going on.”

“Sounds like she should make my job pretty easy.” He reached over the counter to grab a pen and slid it behind his ear. “I’m gonna go drop my bag in the back and prepare myself mentally for the glorious glutes.”

“Mickey’s gonna be jealous,” she tsked. 

“I promise you, no matter how glorious those glutes are, she’s got nothing on Mickey. He’s...” Ian closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them Sage was beaming at him.

“He’s what?” She prompted with a knowing grin. “Goddamn, you two are the cutest, I swear. You look at him like he has the sun, moon and stars all trapped in those sky blue eyes. After all these years you’re still so in awe of him. It’s inspiring. I want that,” she whined. “I want a Mickey.”

“There’s only one and even though he does have a thing for redheads, he’s gay as fuck,” Ian teased.

“All the good ones are,” she pouted. “I’m dreading Sammy and Tim’s wedding. The whole room is going to be filled with gorgeous guys who want nothing to do with me.”

“They don’t have any straight friends?” Ian asked skeptically. “I find that hard to believe..”

“Do you?” she challenged, pale eyebrows raised. 

“Yeah. You, Mandy, Olivia, Selena, Grace, maybe Svetlana on a good day. Lip. Kev. I wouldn’t count Iggy...” 

“Those are women or your family members,” Sage pointed out. “I should have said straight male friends not related to you.”

“I’m not related to Kev.”

“But you are,” she huffed. “You’re, like, South Side related or whatever.”

“Is that a thing you know about Little Miss Lakeshore?” Ian questioned with a smirk. “Last I checked you rarely ventured down to Chi-raq.”

“I come to your house,” she reminded him. “I’ve come every time you’ve invited me.”

“You always come in an uber.”

“Does that not count?” She laughed. “I have to take the L for it to be legit?”

“L is for legit,” Ian confirmed. “Alright. I’ll be back.” He patted Sage’s hand before heading to the employee locker room. Pulling out his phone before he locked it up, he shot a text off to Mickey.

Ian (8:46am): Have U ever heard of Connie on Action News?

Mickey (8:47am): What?

Ian (8:47am): She’s a newscaster.

Mickey (8:47am): So?

Ian (8:48am): U ever heard of her?

Mickey (8:48am): No

Ian (8:48am): She’s my new client.

Mickey (8:49am): Ok

Ian (8:49am): Sage told me she has a glorious ass. She’s known for it I guess.

Mickey (8:50am): Is that right? 

Ian (8:50am): Yup. It got me thinking about something.

Mickey (8:51am): Her ass did?

Ian (8:51am): do people still compliment ur ass?

Mickey (8:52am): I’m tired and ur asking me stupid fucking questions >:O

Ian (8:53am): Are U trying to pretend that ur ass doesn’t get a lot of attention? I’m just wondering if it’s less now that U got a ring on ur finger.

Mickey (8:54am): Nobody that’s commenting on strangers asses gives a shit about a ring...

Ian (8:54am): WTF

Mickey (8:55am): U asked monkey

Ian (8:55am): if anyone says anything u should start telling them that I train U. It would be good for business. Ur ass can be my brand.

Mickey (8:55am): False advertising. U don’t train me.

Ian (8:56am): The fuck I don’t! I’ve been training that ass for YEARS.

Mickey (8:56am): U been fucking it but that’s it. Hate working out with u

Ian (8:56am): It’s our anniversary, asshole

Mickey (8:57am): don’t mean I’m gonna lie

Ian (8:57am): I gtg we aren’t done with our negotiations. 

Mickey (8:58am): What R we negotiating?

Ian (8:58am): Ur ass being my advertisement.

Mickey (8:59am): fuck off

Ian (8:59am): ILY & I own ur ass

Mickey (8:59am): ILY2 & go fuck urself 

Ian tossed his phone into his locker and hurried back out to the front desk where he saw a petite brunette wearing fashionable workout gear waiting for him. 

“Ms. Cotania?” he asked as he approached. She nodded as he shook her hand. “Ian Milkovich. Nice to meet you.”

“You can call me Connie,” she said warmly. 

“Connie,” he grinned. “Let’s go sit down and talk about some goals.” He plucked her file containing an empty fitness profile out of the paper sorter and gestured for Connie to follow him back to the training desk.

“Is this when you make me get on the scale?” she asked, gesturing to the BC-418 body composition analyzer beside them..

“We can talk first, but yeah,” Ian answered. “It’s coming. So are these.” He held up a pair of calipers.. “You look like you’re in great shape, though. Don’t worry too much about what my stuff says. It’s more about how you feel.” He paused. “So, how do you feel?”

“I like you already,” she decided.

“I like you, too..” 

Ian noticed that she very discreetly glanced at his ring finger and frowned. 

“Today’s our anniversary,” he blurted, silently chiding his mouth for saying anything his brain put into it. “We’ve been married for two years.”

“You caught me peeking,” Connie groaned, her tan cheeks flushing red.

“Oh no, I just...” he began, laughing awkwardly and admitting, “yeah.”

“Some investigative journalist I am,” she sighed with a shy smile. “I can’t even slyly check for a ring.”

“In all fairness, I just look for any opportunity to talk about him,” Ian assured her, “and because it’s our anniversary, you know, I had a chance.”

“Mickey?” she asked, pointing at the name scrolled on his collarbone. 

“See you’ve still got it,” he smiled. “Yeah. It’s Mickey.”

“You say his name like it’s your favorite song,” Connie told him. “It’s sweet.”

Ian licked the grin off his lips and nodded. “So, tell me about you. What made you decide to work with a trainer?”

“Honestly, I’m stuck in a rut. I go from the elliptical to yoga class and I feel uninspired by everything. My routine is easy. I’m not challenged and I’m becoming complacent, which I can’t afford to be. It’s true that the camera adds ten pounds and so do the chocolate croissants I’ve been eating every morning for the last month.”

“The last month,” Ian noted, jotting down a few of the important points. “What changed?”

“Hmm?” 

“You said you’ve been eating them for me last month? What happened the month before?”

“Oh. I called off my engagement,” she said, biting her lower lip. She narrowed her eyes. “You caught that fast.”

Ian was glad that he was able to bite his tongue and not tell her why. He’d spent enough time in therapy to know how to shrink someone. “That must’ve been tough,” he said sympathetically, knowing damn well it was.

“It wasn’t easy,” Connie admitted, “but I’m ready to put the past where it belongs and move forward.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” Ian assured her. “I think you’re future will be bright.”

“How do you figure that, Ian Milkovich?” 

“Because you want it to be. That’s the biggest challenge, not being afraid to step into the flames of what sets you on fire. What does that for you? Fans those flame?”

“Freedom,” she responded. “I think it’s freedom.”

“Here’s to your freedom then,” he said tapping his pen against the side of her S’well bottle. “Now let’s get some measurements.”

“Aw, man! I thought if I spilled my guts enough you would forget about those pesky measurements.”

“Not likely,” Ian grinned. “I got a memory like a steel trap.”

“Your poor husband,” Connie teased. “Does he catch hell for things he’s done in the past?”

Ian shook his head more solemnly than he intended to. “Nah, our past is...” he paused, searching for the right word, “complicated. We both work pretty hard to forget about a lot of it.”

“But you’ve got that steel trap,” she said softly, standing up as he held up his measuring tape. “How does that work out?”

He shrugged. “In the end, I guess it’s better that I can’t forget anyway. So I don’t repeat the same mistakes again.” He waved his hand as if shooing away the statement. “You have be talking too much.”

“Distraction technique,” Connie teased. “If we’re talking about you, we’re not talking about me. You know, we should just gossip about other people.”

“That sounds good,” Ian laughed, as he recorded her measurements. “Got any dirt on anyone in here?” 

“I do!” she exclaimed. “See that guy lifting weights in the orange tank?” 

Ian nodded.

“He’s the ex-police chief. Supposedly, he was caught in quite the compromising position.”

“Oh yeah?” Ian asked, his interest piqued. 

As he listened to the rest of Connie’s story, he came to the realization that perhaps Sage was right, he liked being friends with women. He made a mental note to call Mandy on his way home from work and tell her she was due for a visit. After all, his “ex-girlfriend” turned best friend and then sister-in-law had always been his favorite. He missed her and planned to give her shit until she got her ass to Chicago. Luckily, Mandy was still a sucker for his charm. Somehow, Ian was the Milkovich whisperer and he couldn’t have been happier about the unique skill.

His people.


	3. Throw Me a Bone...er

As much as Mickey had enjoyed watching Yevgeny play baseball when he’d first gotten into the sport, he had to admit that his son’s middle grade community league games were far and away more captivating than his elementary matchups had ever been. When Mickey had suggested that Yevgeny try the sport, he hadn’t expected the kid to take to it the way he had. Yevgeny had a natural talent that was fostered by consistent coaches and regular practices. He was so obsessed with the game that he’d gone straight from his school’s spring season into the South Side summer league, eagerly. 

Mickey couldn’t imagine having been so committed to sports back when he was twelve. Growing up, his sole devotion had been to hustling, the only way he’d survived his destitute childhood. He felt an overwhelming sense of pride that he’d been able to provide his son with the opportunity to participate in the activities he wanted to. 

Watching Yevgeny go from baby to toddler to kid from behind a glass wall had made Mickey feel disconnected and helpless. There was nothing that could be done to eradicate the guilt he held for missing so many milestones of his son’s younger years, but ensuring he could say ‘yes’ to Yevgeny’s requests had exponentially decreased the pervasive pangs of pain.

“You did good,” Mickey told Yevgeny as his son made his way to the bleachers. He rose to his feet and handed him a Gatorade and a bag of Doritos, that the kid quickly tore into. 

“I screwed up with that fly ball. The sun got in my eyes and I couldn’t see it,” he said with a mouth full of chips, “It should’ve been an easy grab.”

“Yeah, well, it’s alright. You guys won, so you’re onto the next round, right? It doesn’t matter.” Mickey said as they walked off the field. “Do you need to get that paint shit guys wear on their faces to help with that?”

“I dunno,” Yevgeny shrugged, “maybe.”

“I’m working tonight, but I can text Ian and tell him to pick some up so you have it for tomorrow if you want.”

“That’s good. Thanks.” 

“This way,” Mickey gestured to Yevgeny who had begun to head in the direction of the L. “I’m taking you to your mom’s.”

“I’m supposed to stay with you guys this weekend.”

“I know, but Ian’s at the gym until 7:00pm and I gotta be at work at 4:00pm. He’ll text your mom when he gets home and she’ll bring you over.”

“I can be on my own for three hours,” Yevgeny reasoned. “I’m twelve. You were probably allowed to stay by yourself at twelve.” Unmoving, he crossed his arms over his chest and stared down Mickey, who sighed as he lit a cigarette. “Mom, Kev and V leave us home by ourselves all the time.”

“First of all, nobody gave a shit about me. You got five adults who care about your goofy ass and two outta the five of them don’t think you’re ready to be on your own in their shitty neighborhood.”

“You think your place is in a rougher area than mom’s?” Yevgeny laughed. “Mr. and Mrs. Granger have a garden in front of their house. A garden, Dad,” he emphasized. “Are you and Ian worried I’m going to get attacked by killer tomatoes?”

“A kid was shot on Euclid last weekend, Yev, by a motherfucker with a gun, not a cucumber with a vendetta.”

“That kid ran drugs. I don’t mess with any of that stuff. I’d hang out with Grumpy and play video games with Dmitri.”

“Ohhh,” Mickey nodded with a sniff. “Now, Dmitri’s coming over?”

“What’s wrong with Dmitri?”

“He reminds me of me at your age and I don’t want you hanging out with anyone who is anything like I was.” Mickey took a drag of his cigarette and raised his eyebrows. “Are we just gonna stand here or what Yevgeny? C’mon.” He turned to walk toward Svetlana’s house but paused and turned back after he realized his son wasn’t coming along. “Seriously?”

“Give me a shot, alright? How about I invite Jeremy instead of Dmitri? Jeremy doesn’t even wanna take a piss at your house without asking permission.”

“He’s a fucking nerd,” Mickey tsked, spitting on the sidewalk and smearing the loogie into the pavement with his sneaker. He let out an exasperated sigh as he closed the space between himself to Yevgeny. “If I let you do this, you can’t fuck around and leave the house. You gotta keep the door locked and lay low.”

“I’ll just chill,” Yevgeny promised with a smile. “What about opening the door for Jeremy, though? If he’s coming over I have to unlock the door.”

“Have him come over before I leave for work.”

“I’ll see if he can,” the boy said excitedly, pulling his phone out of his bag. 

“You gonna feel alright about being my yourself if he can’t?” Mickey questioned, fully aware that his kid was too proud to say ‘no’ even if he was nervous about it. 

“I’m twelve,” Yevgeny iterated slowly. “I’m not afraid to be home alone. Were you when you were twelve?”

Mickey didn’t find it necessary to tell Yevgeny that he’d been afraid to be home at all. “Nah.” He stomped out his cigarette as they entered the station and picked up his pace when he saw the train approaching the platform. 

“Can you do me a favor though?” Yevgeny began as they slid into their seats. He asked ‘what?’ when he noticed the look of dismay his request earned from his father.

“I’m already doing you a favor.”

“Well, this isn’t a big deal.”

“What is it?”

“Are you going to tell Ian that Jeremy’s gonna be over?”

“Yeah, he’ll probably bring dinner home for you guys... why?”

Yevgeny licked his lips as if he was pondering if he should continue the conversation. 

“What?” Mickey prodded. “Spit it out.”

“Can you ask him not to walk around in his boxers?”

“He doesn’t walk around in his boxers.”

“Well, he doesn’t usually but last time Jeremy was over Ian was doing laundry in his boxer briefs and a beater.”

“People wear less to the beach, man,” Mickey stated, narrowing his eyes at his son. “What’s the problem?”

“It’s just that Jer was uncomfortable,” Yevgeny sighed.

“Are you telling me this so I’ll tell you to ask Dmitri to come over tonight instead?”

“No, no,” he insisted emphatically. “It’s not, like, a bad thing. It’s more that he...” Yevgeny paused. “I guess he felt okay telling me this because, you know, you’re gay, but he felt uncomfortable because he got turned on or something, got wood I guess.”

“Uh, wow,” Mickey pressed his knuckles into his eye sockets as he nodded his head. “That’s, um, not what I was expecting.”

“Mom told me not to tell Ian because it will go to his...” he cleared his throat and did his best impression of Svetlana, “big orange head.”

“Ian’s had people throwing themselves at him since he sprouted his first pube.”

“Like Aunt Mandy, huh?” Yevgeny chuckled.

Mickey nodded. “Believe me, he’s not gonna get cocky over some horny little fucker jacking off to him.”

Yevgeny cringed. “That’s not something I want to think about.”

“You brought it up,” he said with a click of his tongue. “How do you feel about it?”

“About Jeremy being gay?” 

“Did he say he was gay?” Mickey asked, looking around the car to make sure nobody was listening in to their conversation.

“No, but got hard because of Ian so he is, right?”

“Nah. I mean, he could be, but boys your age get hard over everything. A guy can be into guys and into girls too, so unless he told you he’s gay, don’t call him that.”

“Sorry,” Yevgeny said, his cheeks flushing pink. 

“It’s alright,” Mickey assured him, resting his hand on his son’s shoulder. “It’s not like being gay’s a bad thing or whatever. It just might not be his thing.”

“You say you’re gay but you kinda aren’t.”

“How do you figure that?” Mickey asked, puzzled by the statement.

“You had sex with women, so that would make you bi or something instead of gay, wouldn’t it?”

“Remember how a few years ago we talked about what happened with your mom and me? How it wasn’t by choice for me...”

“Yeah, but you also said you were with other women...”

“I was only with them to try to convince myself that I wasn’t gay. Your dick doesn’t define your orientation. It doesn’t matter who it gets hard for or why,” Mickey explained, wondering why the fuck he told Yevgeny he couldn’t have Dmitri over. Of course the kid was a shit, but Mickey would’ve been very happy to have never had to have the conversation he was in the midst of.

The boy nodded his understanding and lowered his voice, leaning in close to his father. “A guy’s never given me a boner before.”

Mickey chuckled and bit his lip. “Okay, and girls have?”

“A few of them,” Yevgeny admitted, his face turning a deeper shade of crimson. 

Though he remembered being Yevgeny’s age and was well aware of how puberty worked, Mickey had a hard time formulating a response to the confession. When he looked at his son, he still saw the fat little cherub Svetlana lugged into the prison visitor’s room. “Don’t stick it in any of them and if you do make sure it’s got a condom on it.”

Yevgeny’s eyes grew wide and he quickly turned his attention to the city blurring beyond the window. 

Deciding if he had to feel awkward as hell he’d make Ian suffer too, Mickey pulled out his phone.

Mickey (2:43pm): U around?

Ian (2:51pm): Am now 

Mickey (2:51pm): Yev’s having Jeremy over and they’ll be alone at the house from the time I leave for work until u get home.

Ian (2:52pm): WOW 

Mickey (2:52pm): Don’t make a big deal about it. I already feel weird.

Ian (2:53pm): He’ll be fine.

Mickey (2:53pm): Whatever. Can u text him on ur way home from work and ask what they want to eat?

Ian (2:53pm): Yeah 

Mickey (2:54pm): He also mentioned he needs that shit that athletes put on their faces to cut down on the glare from the sun. U got that in the gym?

Ian (2:55pm): I can check the store. If we don’t I can get it from Dick’s on my way home.

Mickey (2:56pm): Who names a store Dick’s?

Ian (2:56pm): a guy named Dick???

Mickey (2:57pm): Who names their kid Dick?

Ian (2:58pm): Is this u opening the discussion about kids again...

Mickey (2:58pm): Nice try. Speaking of kids, Yev asked me to ask U not to wear ur boxers and a beater around the house 2night

Ian (2:59pm): Do I do that when he’s around?!

Mickey (2:59pm): sometimes I guess. Jeremy got hard last time he was over and it fucked him up. 

Ian (3:00pm): fucked up Yev and Jeremy?

Mickey (3:01pm): Jeremy. Yev doesn’t give a shit.

Ian (3:01pm): Poor kid. I’ll try to tone down my extreme sex appeal 2night. It’s gonna be a challenge but I think I can handle it.

Mickey (3:02pm): Know What I cant handle? Ur dumbass.

Ian (3:02pm): But u love trying.

Mickey rolled his eyes at the response, but he knew it was true. Ian was a handful, but he was his, and he’d never stop trying.


	4. Like Father Like Sons

When Ian got home from work, he found two very hungry preteens waiting for him in the kitchen, clearly anticipating his arrival. Though he would have preferred to spend their anniversary evening with his husband, Ian was glad it was their weekend with Yev, and he didn’t have to eat alone. Their incompatible schedules meant they both spent a fair amount of time by themselves. While Mickey didn’t mind the solitude, having become accustomed to loneliness during his incarceration, Ian found it maddening. 

Growing up a Gallagher, he was used to being surrounded by chaos. His quiet life with Mickey was just that, and while he loved it, he found that the times they were apart were more difficult than he’d expected. He’d been alone often when he was living with Theo, but he’d never ached for his ex the way he did for Mickey. Ian had also kept the company of cocaine which blurred the continuum of time, allowing him to float in and out of reality whenever he felt it necessary. Licking the interior of his lips, he shook his head, reminding himself that the powder enchantress would do nothing but fuck up everything he’d worked for, including his relationship with the only person who could tether him to the ground when he felt like he was compelled to float away. 

“Mmm Lou Malnati’s!” Yev exclaimed, taking the boxes from Ian’s hands. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Ian grinned, watching the two boys dig in. 

“Thank you,” Jeremy said, his mouth already full of pizza. 

If Mickey hadn’t told him about Jeremy’s interest, Ian wouldn’t have noticed the way the kid could barely look him in the eyes.

It was difficult for Ian to imagine what it would’ve been like to question his sexuality. For as long as he could remember, he’d known he was gay. For a while, he’d kept his homosexuality a secret, but even then, he’d already come to terms with what it meant and with who he was. The only positive thing about being raised by Frank and Monica was the fact that both had never given a shit about who he banged. They’d never flinched when they’d found out he was into guys, which after experiencing Terry’s reaction, was the biggest blessing the two narcissists had ever bestowed upon him. 

Mickey’s path wasn’t as easy and he found himself hoping that Jeremy had parents who would be accepting of him if he turned out to truly be into men. The thought that he could suffer the way Mickey had made Ian’s eyes prickle with tears, which he forced back. He was glad for the distraction when Grumpy meandered into the room. “Hi baby,” he crooned, squatting so he could rub the big dog behind his ears. “How was your day?” 

Grumpy lazily laid his chin on Ian’s thigh and sighed. 

“That good, huh?” Ian laughed. He rose to his feet, wiping his hands on his shorts. “Heard you won today, Yev. Congratulations.”

“Yeah. I played kinda crappy though.”

“Your dad told me you did well.”

“He kinda has to say that,” Yevgeny answered. “He’s my dad.”

“You’d be surprised how much that whole father thing doesn’t matter to some people,” Jeremy remarked. “Take it from me, a lot of dads aren’t programmed that way. Mine included.”

“Mine too,” Ian said, instinctively resting his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. He gave the kid a gentle squeeze before reaching for a slice of pizza. Glancing down at the pie, he laughed when he saw how many pieces were already gone. “Holy shit, you guys are destroying this thing.”

“I played two games today,” Yevgeny stated. “I’m not sure what your excuse is,” he teased elbowing Jeremy, “unless you worked up a really good sweat trying to beat me at Battlefront.”

“Did you win?” Ian asked Jeremy, raising his eyebrows. 

“Nope. Yev’s impossible to beat.”

“Don’t I know it,” Ian agreed, grinning at his stepson, who was smiling proudly at his reputation. 

It never failed to amaze Ian how often he saw Mickey in Yevgeny. While he knew that it was basic biology, he was still astonished that it could cause a father’s smile to spread across his son’s lips.

“Are you gonna have a slice?” Yevgeny asked. 

“I’m gonna have two,” Ian said, sitting down at the small table with the boys, “and I’m gonna put a few in the fridge for your dad.”

“How many?” his stepson questioned, assessing how much was left. “I gotta feed these muscles.”

“A few,” Ian repeated with a laugh, squeezing the kid’s scrawny bicep. “They’re coming along, huh? When are you coming to CUT so I can work you out?”

“Last time you almost killed me,” Yevgeny tsked, turning to Jeremy. “Ian’s a beast. He can bench like... what now?”

“It’s so fucking douchey to tell people how much you can bench,” Ian chuckled, shaking his head. 

“That’s why I’m telling.”

“240.”

“He can bench 240,” Yevgeny told Jeremy, who nodded his head and cleared his throat uncomfortably. 

“That’s impressive,” the blond kid noted, shoving his pizza into his mouth. “So, it’s your guys’ anniversary today?” he garbled.

“Yup.”

“How many years?”

“Two, but we’ve been together way longer than that,” Ian answered. For some reason, he always felt the need to reference their history. After all, he felt that they earned it. The missed years had been the worst mistake of his life, and though it was part of their history, he hated that they had ever been apart. “We started dating when we were a couple years older than you guys.”

“Dating?” Yevgeny scoffed, smirking. “That’s not what dad calls it.”

“We fell in love when we were a couple years older than you guys,” Ian amended, giving Yevgeny the finger. “Things were messed up for a while but we found our way back.”

“You know my dad was in prison, right?” Yevgeny asked Jeremy. 

“Yev,” Ian warned. The older Yevgeny got, the more cool he found his father’s stint behind bars, a fact that worried all the adults in his life. It was far too easy to be pulled down the wrong path on the South Side, even for a good kid like Yevgeny. 

“No shit?” Jeremy asked surprised. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” Yevgeny nodded. “He did eight years.”

Ian sighed and took another bite of his pizza, wishing he wasn’t privy to the conversation that was unfurling in front of him. It wasn’t that he was ashamed that Mickey had done time, it was that he knew it was something his husband worked hard to put behind him. 

“What did he do?” Jeremy asked cautiously, glancing at Ian, who was staring daggers into Yevgeny. 

“He drugged Ian’s sister and she almost died.”

“On purpose?” Jeremy gasped.

“It wasn’t... his intention was never to kill her,” Ian began, shaking his head. “Yev, come on.” He looked directly at the blond boy, whose mouth was agape. “It was a mistake and he paid for it, okay? That’s all you have to know.”

Jeremy nodded his head and focused on his meal. 

They ate quietly for a little while, until the tension eventually dissipated. 

“Will he be home really late tonight?” Yevgeny asked as he walked over to the refrigerator to get them all another soda. 

“Yeah,” Ian answered, wishing it wasn’t the case. While working in catering was far different than the job Ian used to have dancing at the Fairy Tale, the hours sucked just as badly. Still, he couldn’t have been prouder of Mickey. Management suited him and he was more confident than he had been in years. Mickey had told Ian that the fact that he had the ability to pay the mortgage on their house and provide for Yevgeny gave him a sense of self-worth that he’d struggled to find for a while. It was unfathomable to Ian that Mickey would ever doubt how amazing he was, since he was by far the best person he knew. Whenever he wanted to scoff at Mickey’s statements of doubt, he reminded himself that his husband had been through a lot of things that he couldn’t possibly understand and had navigated it all on his own. It made Ian’s stomach turn to think of abandoning Mickey, but he forced himself to acknowledge it, even when it would have been easier to try to forget about the pains of their past.

“That sucks,” Yevgeny noted. “They should have given him off for your anniversary.”

“Unfortunately, It was a big event and since he’s a manager, he had to be there. All hands on deck, I guess.”

“Is he on a boat?” Jeremy questioned. 

“You know, for a smart guy you say dumb things sometimes,” Yevgeny stated.

“It’s a maritime phrase,” the blond defended. 

“A what?” Yevgeny asked, raising his eyebrows. 

“Never mind,” Jeremy laughed, polishing off his last bite of crust, much to Grumpy’s discontentment.

“You need to watch your weight, Grump Mickey,” Ian tsked. “No pizza for you.”

The dog stared him down with anger in his big blue eyes.

“You can have some baby carrots,” Ian offered, making a move to get the vegetables from the refrigerator. By the time he turned back around, Grumpy was retreating to the couch to go to sleep.

“He really wanted some pizza,” Jeremy chuckled. “Poor guy. He seems really mad about it.”

“He’s always mad,” Yevgeny stated. “It’s part of his charm.”

“I love that charming little bastard,” Ian sighed, grinning in his dog’s direction. 

“Are you talking about my dad or Grumpy?” his stepson joked, chuckling when Ian reached over to tickle him. 

“I’m talking about you,” Ian teased, pinching Yevgeny’s blushing cheek. 

“You gonna take your chances and challenge me to some Battlefront?”

“It’s not taking your chances when you have no chance,” Jeremy pointed out. “No offense...” he said quickly to Ian. 

“None taken,” he assured the kid. “I’ll take you on, Yev,” Ian decided, standing up to place the box with the few pieces of leftover pizza into the refrigerator for Mickey. “I’m going to hit the shower and when I’m done you can beat my ass. How’s that sound?”

“It sounds like a Friday,” Yevgeny smirked.

“Pretty much,” Ian relented.

As he climbed the stairs with a very lethargic dog trailing behind him, Ian could help but smile. While he would have preferred to be spending his anniversary with Mickey, he was glad to be celebrating at home with their human and canine sons. He’d never felt so safe and settled in his life, and he had Mickey to thank. Because of him, they’d all somehow made it to that point, a feat that seemed nearly impossible a few years before. 

Ian turned on the shower thinking of how much he missed Mickey and how it was easier to long for him when he knew he’d be seeing him soon.


	5. Anniversary of the Day After

Though Mickey liked his job, he couldn’t deny it was difficult on the body. By the end of a long shift his back and arms were shot and his feet were aching. It had been worse when he was a waiter, but he’d found managers still had to roll their sleeves up more often than he’d expected. The level of soreness never ceased to surprise him, after all, he was in damn good shape. Actually, he was pretty sure he was more fit than he’d ever been, save a few lost years early in his prison sentence. The perks of being married to a personal trainer who liked to fuck a lot was that Mickey worked out often and hard. Sometimes he’d idly wonder what their lives would be like if Ian had stayed at FIG. The Fairy Tail and CUT both required a certain level of aesthetic fitness, while the catering company did not. He laughed at the thought of them sitting around lazily eating pizza rolls, packing on happiness pounds. Regardless of whether his husband had to keep it trim or not, he knew it was always a priority to Ian. 

Sometimes, he got lost in memories of their younger years, thinking back to the freckle-faced boy who pushed himself in hopes of Westpoint, a dream squandered by a cocktail of South Side poison. With military aspirations long gone, Mickey considered it may not have been only vanity and health compelling Ian to keep his body ripped and toned. 

Regardless of how well Ian had been, Mickey never forgot the war his husband was forced to fight within. Every day Ian he took his medication at the same time, reflected on his behavior, took the temperature of his stability and every day, he was reminded his body wasn’t always his own. He shared his skin and bones with a disorder that sought to take over, poking and prodding for an opening. In spite of it, Ian made himself stronger, more able, perhaps hoping the mental would follow the physical, that in some strange way his discipline would keep his Bipolar in line. At times, Mickey thought maybe, in some ways, it did. 

Creeping into his bedroom as a quarter part two in the morning, Mickey smiled at the sight of Ian snuggled under the covers, sleeping soundly, sans Grumpy. The best thing about the nights Yevgeny was home, minus the obvious, was the fact Grumpy fucked off to sleep with the kid. Mickey unbuttoned his black collared shirt as he admired the way the full moon filtered through their window, casting a silver glow on his husband. He looked like an angel, but Mickey knew his man was anything but. Ian was fearful and flawed, real and raw, everything Mickey was too. He had no idea what they’d done to be worthy of having what so many coveted, but he figured it had something to do with forgiveness, for themselves personally and from each other. The hardest, and the most worthwhile, thing Mickey had ever done was forgive Ian and forgive himself for doing so. He’d always known they were right, even when everything had felt wrong. 

He walked into the bathroom to take a piss and brush his teeth before climbing into the bed beside his husband.

“Hey Milkovich,” Mickey whispered, giving Ian a sweet kiss. He smiled when he saw the redhead’s lips turn up in a grin. “It’s not our anniversary anymore.”

“You woke me up to tell me that?” Ian muttered, opening one eye so he could narrow it at Mickey. 

“Nah, I woke you up to say ‘hi.’”

“Are you gonna say it?” 

“Say what?” Mickey asked, his husband’s scrunched up nose. 

“Hi.”

“I just did.”

“Say it better,” Ian prompted with mischievous smirk. 

“I missed you,” Mickey crooned, looping an arm around Ian’s narrow waist and pulling him closer, laughing when Ian gave him a bear hug in return. 

“Mmm,” Ian hummed, squeezing Mickey so tight it was nearly painful only to release before he had to complain. “I love you.”

Nuzzling his nose against his husband’s, Mickey closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to finally release the tension that had gathered in his shoulders throughout the night. He never realized how anxious he was until he got home. The pressure of making sure everything went seamlessly during the copious events he worked a week was immense. While there were various hiccups, he did a good job of managing them. 

When he’d first began his career at FIG Mickey’d had a difficult time thinking of the people he served as anything more than entitled assholes. It was bizarre to him that they complained about trivial things, like the color of napkins or the temperature of the prime cuts of meat. Slowly, he realized the only way to survive and thrive at his job was to give a shit about the stupid shit they gave a shit about. Instead of grumbling about their first world expectations, as he would have years before, he started to hold himself to the standards they expected him to maintain. In doing so, he found a level of success he thought would be unachievable thanks to the scarlet “F” that would follow him around for the rest of his life: felon. 

“How was tonight?” Ian asked, resting a big hand on Mickey’s cheek. 

Leaning into it with a breathy sigh, Mickey replied, “I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

“I didn’t do anything, I just came home from work with some pizza for the boys and played video games for a couple hours.”

“Did you keep your clothes on?” Mickey teased, drawing a chuckling ‘fuck you’ from Ian. “Really though, did the kid act weird at all?”

“Not really,” Ian replied shaking his head. He licked his lips thoughtfully. “Have you met either of his parents?”

“Uh, uh. Why?”

“I don’t know. I think he’s got some issues with his dad, like maybe his old man’s not supportive or loving or whatever.”

“What South Side dad is?” Mickey scoffed.

“You,” Ian answered matter-of-factly. “I’d like to think me. I mean I know I fucked up, and I’m not really, you know, his dad, but I really try...” he continued, his voice trailing off. 

“‘Course you are,” Mickey assured him with a nod. “You know you are.” 

Mickey had thought Ian’s guilt regarding the years he’d missed with Yevgeny would diminish with time and effort, but it seemed it had gotten worse rather than better. Ian had explained it to him a few times, that the more he loved Yevgeny and watched him mature, the harder it was to imagine he’d had the capacity to disappear from his life when he was only an L ride away. Regardless of how many excuses Mickey tried to feed him, such as cocaine, Bipolar, and pain, Ian wouldn’t take them, always insisting he should have done better. Mickey’s promises of ‘you’re doing great now,’ were the only affirmations that seemed to resonate with his husband. 

“I’m kinda worried about him,” Ian admitted, pulling away from Mickey so he could prop himself up and reach for his glass of water on the nightstand. He took a sip and handed it to Mickey, who gratefully gulped it down. 

“Yevgeny or Jeremy?”

“Both,” Ian said earnestly.

“Give me the none-related kid first,” Mickey directed, curling up in Ian’s arms again. 

“I don’t know. It’s just the way he alluded to things about his dad when we were talking. I’m worried he could be kinda like yours.”

“Shit,” Mickey grimaced. “Really?”

“Probably not as bad, nobody’s as bad, but, kinda. I was thinking maybe it could be good if you talk to him,” Ian suggested. 

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. I’m not delusional enough to think I’m in the position to be giving anybody advice about that shit.”

“You sell yourself short,” Ian chided.

“You gotta a lot of experience with that, too,” Mickey pointed out.

“I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Mickey promised, kissing his name on his lover’s collarbone, still in awe it was there. “And what about Yev?”

“He’s still on that ‘prison is cool ‘ shit.”

“Fuck,” Mickey groaned, rolling his eyes. “Do we gotta get him on “Scared Straight” or something. Take him to the prison and let the bangers rough him up?”

“I don’t think so,” Ian sighed. “He’s not doing anything bad. He’s just... enamored by it for some reason.”

“We should lock him in the basement with a few couch cushions and a scratchy blanket and toss him old salami sandwiches for a few days. He’ll get it then.”

Ian chuckled. “You never thought it was cool, did you?”

“Nah.” Mickey shook his head. “I spent enough time in juvie to know lock up was bullshit. Anyway, it’s cooler not to get caught. Prison’s for assholes who weren’t sneaky enough.”

“Maybe don’t sell it that way,” Ian smirked. 

“It’s probably not the best idea, huh?” he grinned, lifting his eyebrows. 

“Probably not,” Ian agreed, slotting their mouths together. 

“C’mere,” Mickey mumbled against his husband’s lips, tugging the taller man on top of him. “You know what today’s the anniversary of, don’t you?”

“The day after our wedding?” Ian grinned. “That was a fun time.”

“That was a really fun time,” Mickey agreed, reaching below the waistband of Ian’s boxer briefs to wrap his fingers around his husband’s thick cock. 

Ian stretched toward the nightstand and grabbed the lube, slicking up his finger so he could prep Mickey.

They made out like teenagers, neither taking for granted how amazing it was to have a room that was theirs, in a house they owned, and a life together they’d fought for. The slower and more tongue-filled their kisses became, the quicker Ian’s fingers worked to deftly open Mickey. 

Wrapping his legs around husband’s waist, Mickey threw his head back and bit his lip as Ian entered him. Mickey forced his eyes to stop rolling back and focus on the man on top of him instead. Ian was grabbing Mickey’s thighs as he snapped his hips, his lover’s fingernails digging into his skin as he pulled him apart.

Though Mickey was always more aware of the shrieks from their bedsprings and banging of their headboard when Yevgeny was home, he often became too lost in Ian to find it within himself to control the noises. He did, however, try to keep his voice down. Waves of pleasure crashed through his body as Ian surged inside him, taking him away, back to the day two years before and even further than that. He moaned into his husband’s mouth, letting Ian’s tongue muffle the sounds of his release. When the redhead continued to fuck him fervently, Mickey realized they wouldn’t be getting much sleep. It was the anniversary of the day after, after all.


	6. Keep It Together

There were very few things that could get Ian back to the Fairy Tail, an establishment that provoked too many dark memories and heavy feelings of self-doubt, but Tim and Sam were two of them. Having Mickey beside him as he entered the club, just as he had been years before, made his return more palatable. It wasn’t as though he only thought of the Fairy Tail negatively, he’d had some good times there as well, and every one of those high points were because of Mickey. 

The first time Mickey had shown up to the club, Ian was manic and high, a horrible combination that made him feel as though he’d only existed in piecemeal dreams rather than as a whole person rooted in reality. It was mind blowing that he’d spent years after that purposely drifting back to that place. Still, he could still remember what it was like to see Mickey after Svetlana, the army, those lost months, still remember how his heart pounded with love and anger. Fuck, he’d been so pissed, at himself, at Mickey, at Terry, at everything. He remembered the frustration giving way to fear as he grinded on his future husband’s lap, fear that Mickey would never have capacity love him the way Ian loved Mickey. How wrong he’d been.

“You good?” Mickey asked, resting his hand on the small of Ian’s back as they walked toward the bar. 

“I’m fine,” Ian assured him with a soft smile, one that he knew Mickey had been able to see beyond for years. 

“We can fuck off, hang out with them another time, at some other place where they can get cocks rubbed on their mugs,” Mickey offered, stopping dead in his tracks. “We can turn around right now. It’s not a big deal.”

Ian shook his head. “We’re here. Let’s be here.”

“You don’t gotta prove anything to anyone, asshole,” Mickey said tenderly, reaching up to tussle red hair. 

“You always know how to sweet talk me,” Ian teased, even though it was true. The most poetic things other men had said to him never hit him in the chest the way the simplest phrases from Mickey had. And, fuck, if his acid tongued husband didn’t occasionally have a way of expressing his feelings that took Ian’s breath away. “I’m good,” he promised, looking into worried blue eyes. “We’re celebrating.”

“There you are!” Sam exclaimed as Ian and Mickey approached the bar that Tim had manned since they’d first met him. Instead of being behind it, pouring drinks as he typically was, the bartender was sitting on a stool, sipping a cocktail, flanked by friends. “So glad you made it,” he said hugging Ian. He turned to Mickey and gave a nonchalant. “Cool you came, too.” Sam laughed wickedly as he wrapped an unenthused Mickey up in his strong arms. “Man, I tried to play that up, but I can’t resist you.”

“Hey, hey,” Mickey bristled, shrugging his friend off. “I liked you better for the two seconds you actually acted normal.”

“He’s spent now,” Tim teased, reaching out to shake Mickey’s hand.

“You’re a two second man, Sammy?” Ian ribbed, garnering a middle finger salute from the laughing man beside him. 

“If that was the case, I don’t think Moe would be marrying him,” Mickey noted, nabbing the drink directly out of Tim’s hand and taking a swig. 

“Help yourself, Mick,” Tim deadpanned. “You remember Luke, Joe, Ash and Rick, right?” 

Mickey nodded his acknowledgment as Ian greeted the men warmly. 

“No shit! What’s up, Red?” Angelo cried, nudging through the small group of revelers to give Ian a hug. “It’s been a minute.”

“It has been,” Ian agreed. “How are you doing?” 

“Good. I mean, way better than it was. Since Marty left things have been on the up and up around here.”

Memories of the compromising position Ian found Angelo in with their former boss years before soured his stomach. Had the shit with Marty gone down when Ian was Angelo’s age, Ian knew he would've ended up on his knees, too.

“I’m really glad to hear that,” Ian said earnestly, for Angelo and all the other guys at the club. 

“Everyone’s wifed up,” the scantily clad dancer pouted. “You, these guys,” he sighed, gesturing toward Tim and Sam. “When’s it my turn?”

“Aww, squirt,” Tim tsked, giving Angelo a companionable pat on his lower back. 

“Squirt?” Ash smirked. 

“That seems like half the problem right there,” Mickey stated, getting the attention of the bartender on duty. 

“What’s the other half?” Angelo asked curiously. 

Mickey was about to answer, when Ian stifled a laugh and patted his husband’s ass. “Shhh.”

“That’s a shitty fucking nickname,” Mickey mused, taking another sip of Tim’s drink as he waited for his own. 

“You’re still really young,” Sam told Angelo. “You’ve got time.”

Angelo just shrugged and said his goodbyes.

“You gotta go find him someone,” Tim said, elbowing Mickey away. “You set Sam and I up.”

“Oh! Matchmaker status right here, huh?” Luke asked, impressed.

“We told you that story,” Sam informed his friend. 

“You did and a few other ones, too,” Joe smirked. 

“Fuck,” Mickey grunted. “You two got big mouths, you know that?” He drained the contents of his drink as soon as the bartender handed it to him and tapped the bar top to indicate he wanted another. 

“All I have to say is there’s no way in Hell tonight can compare to the splendor of your bachelor party,” Sam stated. “It will go down in history as one of the hottest nights of my life.”

“I don’t know what that says about our sex life, babe,” Tim joked, smiling when his fiancé gave him a smooch. 

“We’re good, we’re good,” Sam laughed before focusing on the rest of the party. “Honestly, Mickey didn’t know what the fuck was going on,” he began. 

“They already said they heard it,” Mickey interrupted. “They don’t gotta hear it again.”

“I mean, there are no complaints here,” Rick promised, looking Ian over as discreetly as possible. “You could go for a dramatic re-enactment and we wouldn’t complain.”

“I’m sure you fucking wouldn't,” Mickey bristled, settling when Ian laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s our bachelor party and we want to reminisce,” Tim said. “Allow us our simple pleasures.”

Rolling his eyes, Mickey sipped his drink and looped am arm around Ian’s waist. 

“So, Mickey is salty as fuck because he doesn’t think Ian’s allowed to be there. His sister made a really big deal about how their parties have to be separate and he thinks Ian’s all about it. Man, he was so pissy, wasn’t he?” Sam asked Tim, who nodded his agreement. 

“Suddenly, I’m interested in hearing more,” Ian grinned, bumping Mickey playfully with his hip. 

“By the time there’s a knock on the door, Mickey is, like, white boy wasted,” Sam explained, drawing raucous laughter from the rest of the guys. 

“What does that even mean?” Mickey humphed. “White boy wasted?” He looked at Ian who was chuckling uncontrollably and gave him a hard spank on the ass.

“Anyway,” Sam continued, waving off Mickey’s inquiry. “Ian comes in and his eyes were like...”

“Starry,” Tim filled in. “He’s looking at Ian like he’s the sun, moon, stars, cosmos, the whole goddamn galaxy. Obsessed.”

“Alright, alright,” Mickey groaned.

Leaning down, Ian slotted his mouth against his husband’s, loving the tang of orange juice he could taste on his tongue. 

“Okay, y’all are cute,” Joe crooned. 

“Aren’t we supposed to be talking about you guys?” Ian asked Sam and Tim, who seemed to think the idea of changing the subject was ludicrous. 

“So Ian starts dancing...” Sam began.

“You used to work here, didn’t you?” Ash interrupted.

“Yeah,” Ian nodded. “On and off for a while.”

“You must’ve made bank,” Joe stated, earning him narrowed eyes from Mickey. 

“So he starts dancing,” Sam reiterated, louder so his friends would give him the proper attention, “and Mickey’s ready to drop dead, like he looked so turned on I thought he would combust.”

“C’mon,” Mickey chided. “I’ve been fucking with the guy for half my life. I can keep it together.”

Ian raised his eyebrows as the rest of the group regarded Mickey skeptically. 

“Yeah, whatever you gotta tell yourself,” Tim laughed. He then directed Sam to, “tell them about the shorts.”

“Ian’s wearing these thin little booty shorts,” Sam continued.

“Oh I forgot to tell you, man. We need to get those so we can hang them up on the wall here. Retire you officially as the MVP,” Tim teased.

“You just want to wear them on your honeymoon,” Ash joked.

“Not a bad idea,” Sam hummed, with a nod. “Not a bad idea at all.”

“In your dreams,” Tim chided playfully. 

“Literally,” Sam confirmed. “Those shorts are majestic.”

“Alright. We’re done,” Mickey decided. “We’re not gonna sit around here and talk about my husband’s majestic dick.”

“Nobody said anything about my dick,” Ian whispered with a grin. “Other than you. You just did.”

“That’s what they’re getting at. Aren’t you?” he questioned, glaring at Sam. “Hmm?”

“It’s more the construction of the shorts themselves. How they can hold up so effectively while being paper thin,” Sam disagreed. “It’s a marvel in garmentry.” 

“Garmentry?” Joe laughed. “You’re making up words now, Sammy?”

“He’s trying to tap dance his way outta an ass beating from Mick,” Tim grinned. “And from the looks of my boy over there, Sam’s not doing that good of a job.”

Clearing his throat, Sam held his hands up in mock surrender. 

“How about we talk about the fact that you cuties are getting married in two weeks,” Luke suggested, “because I, for one, cannot wait!”

“It’s going to be great,” Ian added, happy to go along with the change of the subject, not just because he believed it, but also for the sake of his surly husband. 

The conversation moved full swing into all things Sam and Tim’s wedding, and Mickey listened dutifully, until he leaned in close to Ian. With his lips resting on Ian’s earlobe, he whispered, “You’ve always made it impossible for me to keep it together.”

Ian smiled as Mickey’s teeth sunk into his soft skin. 

“Always got me unraveling for you.”

Turning his chin down so he could look into Mickey’s blown our eyes, Ian promised, “You’ve always made me want to keep it together.”

And he still did.


	7. Company

Mickey was sick of spending time with anyone but Ian. Between busy nights at work, commitments with friends, and Mandy’s impending visit, he was craving a night alone with his husband. Unfortunately, Ian had other ideas, ideas that left Mickey incredibly cranky. 

“C’mon,” the redhead sighed, looping his arms around Mickey’s waist as he brushed his teeth. “You can’t stay mad at me. This was an extenuating circumstance.”

Instead of replying with words, Mickey lifted his eyebrows and moved his brush back to his molars. 

“How do you look so cute when your foaming at the mouth, hmm?” Ian asked, resting his chin on Mickey’s shoulder and smiling sweetly at him in the mirror.

“Fuck off,” Mickey garbled, spitting the toothpaste into the sink as he shrugged his husband off him.

“Carl’s only here for the long weekend and he really wants you to meet Gage.”

“That’s weird,” Mickey muttered, wiping his mouth with a towel. “You met him last night. That’s enough. I don’t know why I gotta hang out with him, too. I get one night off this week, Ian. One. This isn’t the way I want to spent it.”

“I know,” Ian nodded. “I should’ve told them it wasn’t going to happen, but Carl’s just so... proud. Like, he really wants to show everyone what he’s found.”

“And what do I gotta do with any of that?” Mickey asked, pulling on a sleeveless black top. 

“He’s always looked up to you, Mick.”

“That’s only because he’s a short motherfucker.”

Ian laughed. “I think you’re the same height now.”

“So, he doesn’t look up to me then.”

“You know what I mean.”

“If you mean he wanted to be like me when he was growing up, I’m glad he never was,” Mickey stated, exiting the master bedroom. He wasn’t surprised to hear Ian stalking after him.

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Ian demanded, nearly tripping over Grumpy as he followed Mickey down the hallway. “You’re the best person I know.”

“If he would’ve followed in my footsteps he would’ve been in prison instead of the army. Don’t act like it’s not good he didn’t turn out like me,” Mickey shot back, turning around in the stairs so he could rest his hand on his husband’s chest. “I’m doing good now.”

“Better than good,” Ian insisted. 

“Whatever. Don’t try to wrap a bow on the shit of the past, okay? Your brother wanted to be like me because he thought it was cool to be a bad. Everything’s changed, we’ve both changed. I don’t know why he’d give a damn about what I think of the dude.”

“Because maybe he wasn’t impressed by you because you were ‘bad,’ Maybe he was the only one who didn’t have their head up their ass and actually realized you were good,” Ian reasoned, earning him a gentle pat on his ass from Mickey, who rose up to meet him on his step and gave him a kiss.

“You talk too much,” Mickey said, smiling against Ian’s lips.

“You love it,” Ian flirted, placing both his hands on Mickey’s cheeks to kiss him harder.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Ian said, following Mickey down the stairs and into the kitchen. “You’re gonna like Gage. He’s a nice guy and Carl says he rolls some thick-ass blunts.”

Mickey glanced at Ian and wordlessly popped the the tab of his beer can. 

“You’re not gonna say anything to that?” Ian questioned, dumping a bag of Doritos into a serving bowl.

“Guys who roll fat blunts can eat chips outta the bag,” Mickey chided. “I’m not washing that.”

“Nobody asked you to.”

“I see what you’re trying to do.”

“Oh yeah?” Ian asked, a smirk on his face as he anticipated Mickey’s answer. “What am I trying to do?”

“You want to get me fucked up so I’ll forget I’m pissed at you and climb all over your lanky ass.”

“I was actually hoping you’d climb onto my big hard dick,” Ian grinned, “but close.”

Throwing up his middle finger, Mickey laughed and took a swig of his beer. 

The doorbell caught Ian as he started to cross the room toward Mickey. “You were about to get it,” Ian teased. “You got lucky.”

“See...” Mickey tsked. “I don’t think getting interrupted when I’m ‘about to get it’ is lucky at all.”

“Probably not,” Ian relented, chuckling as he went to answer the door.

“Yeah, probably not, Milkovich,” Mickey called after him, crushing the rest of his beer and then the can that had contained it. Tossing it into the trash can, he headed to the living room where he heard the guys talking.

“Hey Mick,” Carl exclaimed, giving Mickey a hug.

“What’s up, soldier?” MIckey greeted, realizing it was kind of nice to see Carl after all. 

“Mickey, this is my boyfriend Gage, Gage, my brother-in-law, Mickey.”

“How’s it going, man? Heard a lot about you,” Gage said, extending his hand to shake Mickey’s. 

When Mickey had gotten home from work the night before, Ian had told him about the BBQ at Fiona’s and informed him that Gage looked even more like him in person. Mickey had thought his husband was giving him shit, until he locked eyes with his doppelgänger. The resemblance was both uncanny and moderately creepy. 

“Uh,” Mickey sniffed, studying Gage’s face. Carl’s boyfriend was younger and taller than Mickey, but their faces were so similar that Mickey wondered if Terry had fathered any other bastards. It was a distinct possibility. “You too.”

“We do look alike,” Gage said, clicking his tongue at Carl. “You’re delusional if you think we don’t.”

“I don’t see it,” Carl replied innocently, laughing when Ian went for a quick grab of his stomach. “I really don’t!”

“You have to get your eyes checked then, killer,” Gage teased, wrapping an arm around Carl’s shoulder and leaning down to give him peck.

While Mickey knew it shouldn’t have been strange to see Carl he openly affectionate with a guy, it was. He wondered if Carl had struggled with his sexuality when he was growing up too, and if he should’ve seen it and been there for him. In hindsight, perhaps that’s why the kid had hung around so much and regarded Mickey with respect the other Gallaghers couldn’t seem to muster, because he was impressed by the ownership Mickey had finally taken over his life, until he gave a chunk of it away to the state of Illinois. 

The dinner conversation was lighter than Mickey’s thoughts, which he was glad for. Listening to Carl and Gage talk about their life on base in Texas brought up memories of Ian training for Westpoint, the hope in his eyes, the strength in his convictions. Mickey couldn’t help but consider how different things would have been between them if Ian had been able to stay in the army. Mickey was married and hadn’t had the capacity to make Ian stay. Maybe Ian would have met his own Gage and made a career in the army. He closed his eyes, willing the scenario to leave his mind. Though he wasn’t one for cliches, the old adage, “everything happens for a reason” seemed appropriate. They’d been through hell and back and then hell again for a reason. Instinctively, Mickey reached for Ian’s hand and ran his fingertip over the titanium band on the redhead’s finger. He finally felt like they’d made it, in spite of all the obstacles, they’d found their way.

“Wanna sit on the back porch and smoke some weed?” Mickey asked, collecting the empty paper plates from the table and dumping them into the garbage. “I got Doritos for the munchies and Ian put them in a bowl like we’re fucking fancy.”

“You guys are fancy. You own a house,” Carl responded, holding his arms up to present the Ian and Mickey’s house in all its aging glory. 

“A nice house,” Gage added, pulling a baggie of weed out of the pocket of his dark skinny jeans. “Did Ian tell you about my blunts?”

“He told me what he heard about them,” Mickey nodded, looking at his husband skeptically. 

“Right, right,” Gage corrected quickly. “We didn’t smoke last night. Carl just likes to brag about my skills.”

“All his skills,” Carl added, waggling his eyebrows as he guzzled the rest of his beer. 

“Easy there,” Ian warned with a grin. 

“The beer or the details?” Carl clarified. 

“The details. You’re my baby brother,” Ian crooned, tussling Carl’s hair before grabbing another six-pack for the guys and leading them outside. 

The summer night was warm and so was Mickey, with a good meal settling in his stomach, beer in his veins and, after his first inhale, dank weed fogging his head. He listened as the other guys bullshitted, adding to conversation every once in a while. It was easy to see that Carl and Gage had a strong connection from the way they exchanged looks and smiles. It was soft and promising and Mickey found himself hoping they’d make it. 

Though Mickey felt the urge to straddle Ian’s lap, he held back. Still, he scooted his chair closer to his husband’s and rested his hand on the meat of Ian’s thigh. The knowing grin the action earned from the redhead had Mickey licking his lips in anticipation. 

“You two used to bang all the time,” Carl said bluntly, standing up to the cross the circle and hand Mickey the remainder of the joint. He turned to Gage. “I swear, every night the springs squeaking on Ian’s bed was what I fell asleep to and sometimes when I woke up to piss they’d still be going, like, hours later.”

“No shit,” Gage laughed. “You all shared a room?”

“For a while,” Ian nodded. “You gotta do what you gotta do when you share a room. We couldn’t go to Mickey’s...” his voice trailed off as if he was recalling the fucked up situation. “So, that was that.”

“Married life slow you down?” Carl asked, causing Mickey to sputter as he inhaled.

Mickey watched Carl get a hard elbow to the rib from Gage as Carl asked, ‘what,’ as if it was a perfectly normal inquiry. 

“If we ever decide to make it official, I want to know we’re still gonna get it in,” Carl smirked. “This is research.”

“We both work a lot,” Ian said, “but it’s not a drought or anything. We find time for each other.”

“You thinking about that?” Mickey asked Carl.

“About what?” the younger Gallagher questioned.

“Getting married.”

Carl shrugged and grinned at Gage. “Maybe.”

“Do it,” Mickey directed. “Do you fuck a lot now?”

“I fuck sometimes and he fucks the others,” Carl laughed, drawing another elbow from Gage whose cheeks were tinting pink. 

“That’s not what he meant,” Gage whispered with a chuckle in his voice.

“Great. Now I gotta imagine a little chihuahua fucking a Rottweiler,” Mickey teased, clicking his tongue at the image that was trying to push its way into his brain. 

“He’s not even thick,” Carl objected. “He’s he a lab and I’d be, like, a cocker spaniel.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Gage laughed, hiding his face in his hands. 

“That’s a useless cause with the two of them,” Ian grinned. “They’ll go back and forth all night.”

“I better roll another one then,” Gage decided, pulling his weed out to get to work. The statement garnered an appreciative nod from Mickey.

“Pass that shit.”

Company wasn’t so bad.


	8. Morning Wood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!

Ian’s day started like any other. He woke up with his alarm at 7:00am and took a few moments to savor the smell of his husband’s skin before reluctantly untangling their bodies. Knowing Mickey was beat from a late shift the night before, Ian decided to ignore the straining in his groin in favor of letting his man sleep. As Ian showered, he thought about the future, wondering when the time would come that he’d stop springing morning wood. Being that he was only thirty, he knew the possibility of impotence at an advanced age wasn’t something he really needed to worry about, and yet, he couldn’t get it off his mind. There was so much more than sex in their marriage, but Ian never wanted to stop being able to fuck Mickey. By the time he dried off and brushed his teeth, Ian was sure he was going to march his horny ass back to the bed and screw his husband. One day he’d wake up with a limp cock and he didn’t want to waste wood when it could be used to make Mickey moan and shake in the delicious ways he did when he was cumming.

“Wanna get you off,” Ian crooned, crawling onto Mickey and kissing his ear lobe as he whispered, “Can I?”

“Bet you can,” Mickey grinned, groaning sleepily as he stretched his arms over his head and then wrapped them around Ian.

“One day I’m going to wake up without a hard-on,” Ian informed Mickey as he slicked his digits with lube and tucked them between the brunet’s legs. “Like maybe I’ll have to take Viagra to get it up at all.”

Lifting an eyebrow as Ian fingered him open, Mickey cupped his hand on as much of Ian’s dick as he could, “Feels good to me.”

“Not right now,” Ian tsked. “In the future.”

“Okay,” Mickey said slowly, digging his fingernails into Ian’s broad shoulder blades when the redhead began to scissor. “Maybe I will too.”

“Maybe you’ll what?” 

“Have to take Viagra or some shit to get hard.”

Ian pondered the statement for a moment. “We’re going to get old one day.”

“We are,” Mickey confirmed. 

“Fuck,” Ian muttered, shaking his head as if the thought of aging had been a foreign concept. “What if you don’t think I’m cute anymore?”

“Do I think you’re cute now?” he scoffed, grimacing when Ian hooked his fingers. “Fucker.”

“I’m serious,” Ian admonished, pulling out of his husband, who in turn sat up in bed, aggravated.

“Where is all this coming from?” Mickey questioned. 

“I don’t know. Don’t you ever just... think?”

“Yeah I do it a lot, but it’s not as dangerous as when you do,” Mickey replied, patting Ian’s knee. “Do you need me to say something?”

“About what?”

“I don’t know. Me loving you even when you got saggy balls or some shit,” Mickey offered. “Cause I will.”

“You used to make fun of me when I was with older guys,” Ian pointed out.

“That’s because you were, like, twelve and they were fifty.”

“I wasn’t twelve.”

“How old were you when you started fucking around with pedos then?” 

Ian shrugged. “Fourteen? And they weren’t pedophiles.” 

“Yes they fucking were,” Mickey said, narrowing his eyes. “The fact that you were into them or whatever didn’t make them less creepy, dumbass. What would you do if you found out two years from now that Yev was banging some grown-ass man?”

“Kill him.”

“Yev.”

“The guy,” Ian corrected. 

“Why’s that?”

“Because he’s a kid.”

“And you weren’t?” 

“I was never a kid.”

“Oh yeah? What were you then?” Mickey challenged.

“Confused.”

“Hmm.”

“I think you were the most normal part of me back then,” Ian decided. “You probably still are.”

“Probably,” Mickey agreed, smirking. “You woke me up saying you wanted to get me off...”

Sliding his hand behind his husband’s head, Ian pulled Mickey in closer to him to slot their mouths together.

“You got an unfair advantage,” Mickey said, moving his lips away. “You taste like toothpaste.”

“I’d say you taste like ass, but your ass tastes better,” Ian grinned.

“Ha, ha, ha. You wanna keep making stupid fucking jokes or do you wanna get the fuck in me?” 

Mickey laughed as Ian tossed him to the bed and kissed a trail down his torso, wrapping his lips around Mickey’s dick. 

“Much better way to use your mouth,” Mickey murmured, laughing when Ian flipped him the bird as he gave him head. “I know a better way for you to use that finger too.”

Ian chuckled around Mickey’s cock before sliding two fingers back into his husband’s ass. The more fervently Ian went at it, the shorter Mickey’s breaths became quickly dissolving into a series of low moans. 

Knowing his man was ready, Ian let Mickey’s big dick fall from his mouth, positioning himself on his knees so he could line himself up with Mickey’s entry. Dropping his head back when he bottomed out, the redhead moaned, loving how his lover’s muscles squeezed the base of his shaft. “Mmm. Fuck.” 

Ian rolled his hips slowly, watching as Mickey’s eyes rolled back in their sockets at the feeling of being whole.

They were quiet as their bodies moved in unison, working toward the release they both craved. Tattooed fingers tangled in Ian’s hair as he delivered long hard strokes into his husband. Peering down at Mickey’s heavy cock, Ian wrapped his hand around it, knowing it needed attention.

Ian attempted to hold himself together until Mickey got off, but looking at his lover’s thick body below him had his balls tightening. Mickey’s dick, his thighs, his arms, his chest, his lips —all so thick. “I’m gonna cum,” Ian panted, clenching Mickey’s thick ass with his free hand. 

“I’m close,” Mickey grunted. “Pound it faster.”

Doing as he was told, Ian increased his pace, frantically tugging Mickey’s cock as he tried to keep his rhythm.

“Ooo,” Mickey moaned, punching out an exhale as Ian took him to the edge. “Ohh. Oh shit. Come on.”

Watching Mickey spray shot after shot of cum over his own belly and chest had Ian pushing jizz deep within him, making sure he was covered, inside and out. 

Mickey gave Ian a sated grin. “Damn, that was good.”

“Amazing,” Ian agreed, pulling out and pressing a sweet kiss on Mickey’s tattoo before letting his tongue hang out of his mouth and move down Mickey’s body, cleaning his sticky skin. 

“My cumslut,” Mickey crooned, arching his back so Ian could get a better angle. “Don’t miss a spot.”

“You know I wouldn’t waste a drop,” Ian assured, humming as he lavished every inch.

Once he was sure he’d gotten everything, Ian hoisted Mickey’s legs up and buried his face into his husband’s sloppy asshole, pushing his tongue inside him.

“Nasty motherfucker,” Mickey moaned, his body twitching as Ian focused on the sensitive spot, lapping him up. 

“You love it,” Ian teased, pressing a final kiss against the puckered hole before sitting up straight.

“I do.”

“I have a client at nine.”

“You better go then,” Mickey yawned, snuggling his face into the pillow. “Tuck me in.”

Ian grabbed the comforter from where it had been kicked to the floor and draped it over Mickey, pushing the edges under his body so he was wrapped up like a human burrito. He gazed down at Mickey proudly for a moment, glad he could take care of him.

“Feed the dog and take him out before you leave,” Mickey directed. “I think he’s in Yev’s bed. I don’t want him waking me up.”

“Alright,” Ian said, taking tissues out of the box on the nightstand to wipe his dick. “Anything else?”

“Don’t forget to take the trash out,” he added, “and gimme a kiss.”

Ian smiled, pulling his boxer briefs up the rest of the way before leaning over to smooch Mickey. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby,” Mickey said. “I’ll text you when I’m up. Maybe I’ll come up north for lunch.”

“That would be nice,” Ian crooned, giving Mickey one last kiss. 

Quietly, Ian continued to get dressed and exited the room to take care of the chores before heading to work. 

“Come on, Grumps,” he said, tickling the lounging pooch under his chin. “You hungry?” 

Ian laughed when the dog summoned all his energy and sprung out of the bed, barreling down the stairs. Opening the backdoor, he let Grumpy out into the yard to do his business and poured him a bowl of food. Fetching a yogurt and banana for himself, Ian sat on the couch to watch the news as he ate his breakfast. The record high temperatures the meteorologist was reporting had him thankful for air conditioning, something he’d been especially grateful for since living in the shitty apartment with its unreliable HVAC unit. 

_Stay tuned at half past the hour for Connie Cotania’s Dirty Dining report. Connie will take you inside some of the Chi’s favorite restaurants and tell you which are safe and which are a mistake._

_But first... is former Lieutenant Governor turned Illinois Junior Senator, Theodore Goodwyn considering a run for the White House? Sources close to Democrat say ‘it could happen.’ This non-confirmation is still good news for many in the party who have been hearing a solid ‘no’ to the question for years. ___

__Ian turned off the television and stared at the black screen. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t known Theo’s political aspirations went beyond the state level, after all, it was something they’d discussed at length, but it was strange to hear the partial announcement on the news. While it didn’t make much difference to Ian what his ex-fiancé chose to do with his life, he didn’t want to be dragged into the limelight as a part of Theo’s past. Moreover, he didn’t want Mickey and his family to be spoken about again. Regret and apprehension settled in Ian’s chest as he chided himself for finding a way to complicate things. Always._ _


	9. Worry

Mickey worried about Ian... always. Ever since the day his future husband showed up on his porch, freckled face panicked thanks to the return of his mother, Mickey had found himself fretting for the fucker. Over the years, Ian had given him so many reasons to worry, from disappearing for months at a time to concerns regarding his Bipolar diagnosis and his eventual affinity for cocaine, the love of his life had proven he'd perpetually keep Mickey's hands full. Even when he’d had ninety-six months of hard time to focus on problems of his own, Mickey had thought of Ian, hoped he was taking his medication, being safe, that he was happy. But when he’d found out Ian was happy, even marginally, Mickey had wished he’d worried about his own happiness, though there hadn’t been any to be found in MCC. 

Sometimes when he was alone in the house or had a down moment at work, Mickey recalled his vows and thought he should have made more promises to Ian, like committing to take his husband’s concerns onto his own shoulders rather than letting Ian bear the weight of his worry. Though he wished there was, Mickey knew there wasn’t much he could do about the anxiety Ian had regarding Theo and the trajectory of his career. Ian’s ex-fiancé was going to be present in their lives whether they wanted him to be or not. Theo was a politically powerful man who was on track to gain popularity, a guarantee his past would be drudged up ad nauseam in the national arena. The senator’s image was squeaky clean, save the relationship he had with a former stripper turned drug addict turned cheater and there was no doubt in Mickey’s mind Ian would exploited in the interest of making Theo look bad, which would make Ian look worse. It’s not that Mickey gave a shit what anyone said about Ian, it wasn’t even that he cared what they said about him, it was more that he worried how Ian would cope with the drags. In the past, he hadn’t handled them well, which was understandable but problematic just the same.

As much as Mickey didn’t care about the public’s opinion of his husband, he couldn’t help but be concerned about the impact on Yevgeny. The first time salacious stories about Ian and Mickey’s past had hit the news, Yev was younger, spending time with other kids his age, who cared more about Minecraft than scandals. Like any fad, interest in Ian’s background had dissipated when the public moved on to the next headline, hungry for fresh meat. If, or more likely than not, when Theo ran for a loftier office, they’d be ready to feast again on the politician’s former fiancé. Yev would be old enough to understand and kids at school would be more aware. They’d realize Yevgeny’s dads weren’t just a couple of homos from Halsted, they were a couple of homos who had fucked up epically throughout their youth, and probably still did from time to time. Or maybe they’d think worse, that Ian and Mickey were just fucked up guys, and Mickey wondered if they would be right in thinking that, maybe they’d always been a mess and would continue to be one, because that’s who they were, messes of men who had messed up and would forever be a mess for one another. Regardless of who he and Ian were, Mickey didn’t want to mess shit up for Yev. Yevgeny had been through enough thanks to the both of them. He didn’t deserve to have to go through more.

“You’re crankier than usual,” Mandy noted as she ate potato chips on the couch. 

Though Mickey lived to give Mandy shit, her visit couldn’t have come at a better time. She and Olivia brought some levity to the house on Dante street, a lightening up that was much needed considering the circumstances. 

As much as Mickey hadn’t wanted to, he and Ian had been fighting since they’d heard the news of Theo’s possible run. Things were tense with Ian being frustrated about the decisions of his past leaking into their present and Mickey trying to tell him not to freak out about it. Worse than attempting to settle Ian down, was asking him if he was ‘alright’ and checking up on his feelings, which Mickey did ‘all the fucking time’ according to his husband. So a cacophony of ‘fuck you’ would fill the air, until they got tired of arguing and had sex. All would be settled until Ian charged up again. Rinse and repeat. As long as they were fighting, fucking, and Ian was sad, mad, sleeping, waking, eating and complaining, Mickey was relieved. If he was showing the gamut of emotions and taking care of himself, Ian was okay, it was the day Ian stopped exhibiting all those feelings that Mickey worried about, the day he couldn’t get him out of bed.

“I told you, he’s been tough,” Mickey grumbled, tossing his phone onto the coffee table and sinking into the chair.

“I can’t deal with you two having problems,” Olivia admitted, grabbing the chips from Mandy and shoving a handful into his mouth. “I’m going to gain ten pounds from stress eating this weekend. I mean, you guys are goals, if you’re struggling what’s that mean for the rest of us?”

“We’ll be fine, Suzy fucking Sunshine,” Mickey huffed, shooting a dirty look at his sister’s overdramatic sidekick. “We’ve dealt with worse.”

“That’s not a lie,” Mandy confirmed, smiling at Olivia. “They’ll be fine. We’ll probably hear them aggressively fucking tonight just like old times.”

“Don’t get my hopes up,” Olivia smirked. 

“You won’t hear us fucking,” Mickey promised. “We’ve got good at being quiet, you know, with Yev being here part-time and shit. We’re not trying to scar the kid for life.”

“It’s good he knows his parents love each other,” Olivia offered. 

“He knows that whether he hears us fucking or not. Did you hear your parents banging a lot? Is that why you’re a pervert?” Mickey questioned, drawing a laugh from Mandy and a giggling ‘fuck you’ from Olivia. 

“Do you know how many guys at bars talk about wanting to watch me and Mandy get it on?” 

“Probably a lot of them and they’re pervs like you,” Mickey decided, taking a swig of his beer. “Are you two finally fucking or something?”

“No we’re not ‘finally fucking,’” Mandy laughed. “We’re still straight.”

He shrugged. “Olivia made it sound like you were pounding down some puss.” 

“Pounding down some puss?” Olivia roared. “Where the hell do you come up with this stuff?”

Mickey rubbed his forehead and shook his head in response. 

“Mick always made me bring him girl on girl porn when he was in juvie,” Mandy her friend. 

“Before you were out?” Olivia asked Mickey, who nodded. “That doesn’t make any sense. Wouldn’t you ask for like, hetero porn so you could at least take a peek at some peen?”

“Don’t bring her back here again,” Mickey warned Mandy. “Weirdo.”

“Why did you want girl on girl though?” his sister inquired. “Why no sneaky dick?” 

“Stop asking stupid fucking questions,” he admonished, but the truth was his answer was embarrassing. He never wanted to be the guy who did what other people did because he wanted to fit in, he never gave a shit like that, except for when he did. He did back then, he wanted to be like the other guys in juvie who were fantasizing about women, not Ian Gallagher’s cock.

“When’s my nephew going to be here?”

“We have to go get him from Svet’s in a few minutes,” Mickey replied. 

“You don’t let him ride the L by himself?” Mandy asked surprised, “Really? He’s twelve. We were on the L by ourselves at half his age.”

“We were scrappy motherfuckers. He’s not because he doesn’t gotta be,” Mickey answered. “When you have a kid of your own you can decide when he can ride the L by himself and until then you can shut the fuck up.”

“I love it,” Olivia grinned, giving Mickey an enthusiastic thumbs up. “Overprotective Daddy vibes.”

“Two overprotective daddies,” Mandy told her. “According to Ian, he’s gonna be teaching Yevvy to box soon.”

“I like it.”

“I can’t imagine him fighting,” Mickey admitted. “He’s small. He’s got the baseball thing going on but he’s good cause he’s quick.”

“Wonder where he get that from...” Mandy teased. 

He groaned, “You’re annoying me already. When do you guys leave?”

“Four days, but we’re thinking of moving here,” Olivia joked. “Keeping you constantly in our company.”

“Kill me.”

“Maybe we will,” Mandy smirked. “When’s Ian gonna be home?

“You bored with me?” Mickey asked.

“Always.”

“A little after five,” he replied. “Since you’re here probably a little before.”

“He loves me,” Mandy beamed. “I miss him. I can’t wait to give him a squeeze. Him and the booger both.”

“He’ll be happy to see you,” Mickey stated, and he knew it was true. Regardless of how much he wanted to settle Ian down and give him the solace he needed, a breath of fresh air via Mandy would be a good thing. Though Mickey knew Ian had shared what was going on with Mandy, it was different to be comforted in person rather than on the phone. While Mickey was Ian’s person, Mandy was too. He wanted Ian to have a good time during her visit and find a way to worry less, at least for a little while. It would take some of the stress off both of them. 

And maybe they’d fight less, but fuck just the same. That would be better.


	10. The Milkovich Legacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tippy-toeing back in here!  
> Hi! Sorry for the delay. I’m alive and will be updating more frequently :)

As excited as Ian was to come home to Mickey, he was over the moon to walk through the door of his house knowing his best friend was going to be there, too. He hadn’t wanted to let the news of Theo’s possible run affect him, but it was impossible to ignore all the drama that could come from it. He wasn’t ignorant to the fact, however, that the anxiety he was feeling, and the subsequent crankiness it caused, he was inviting unnecessary stress into his marriage, which was exactly what he was trying to avoid. 

It never failed to astound Ian how patient his husband was. Throughout the span of their relationship, Mickey had continued to prove he had a superhuman capacity to hold shit down when everything was turbulent around them. Just once, he wanted to be the rock, but he didn’t feel solid enough. He wondered if he ever would. Stupidly, he’d imagined that once he had the Milkovich name, he’d encompass some of the strength his husband and best friend did, but it was more than a name that gave them that strength and he knew it. 

“Hey!” Mandy exclaimed, throwing her arms around Ian as soon as he walked through the door. 

“Hey Mands,” he sighed, tucking his face into crook of her neck. It had been so long since she smelled even vaguely like Mickey. Years had passed since they used the same soap and lived in the same house. In a way the change continued to feel like a loss. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” she promised, rubbing his back soothingly as they embraced. 

“Let me in there,” Olivia said, giving Ian a hug. “Good to you.”

“Good to see you,” he agreed.

Though there was always affection when they were all reunited, Ian couldn’t help but feel like they’d been talking about him before he’d gotten home, that Mickey had told them how tough things had been. When he felt a tug on the back of his sweatpants, he turned find Mickey standing behind him, gnawing on his bottom lip. 

“Hey baby,” Mickey muttered, as Ian hooked his arms under his husband’s armpits and pulled him into a tight hug. It was as though they hadn’t seen each other in months, every hour that they spent arguing felt like a day on its own.

“Hey,” Ian whispered, pulling back enough to slot their mouths together, a quiet moment though the house was more full of people than it typically was.. “How was your day?”

“Okay,” Mickey replied, reaching his hand up to tussle Ian’s hair. “What about you? Hmm? You doing alright?”

“Better now,” Ian decided.

“Good. You were a fucking prick today,” Mickey teased, but Ian knew there was a lot of truth in jest. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” he said, giving Mickey a series of pecks. 

“By not being a pissy bitch?” 

“By trying not to be a pissy bitch,” Ian confirmed, smirking at his husband’s raised eyebrows. “Trying hard not to be a pissy bitch.”

“Liv made tacos,” Mandy announced. 

“And they’re ready,” Olivia called from the kitchen.

“You put our guests to work?” Ian asked Mickey, giving him a playful pat on the ass.

“We started getting Blue Apron boxes and she thinks she’s a chef,” Mandy said, taking Ian’s hand to lead him across the room. “And look at her sous chef working hard.”

“You’re cooking, Yev?” Ian asked surprised. 

Yevgeny shrugged. “I’m just kinda moving meat around in the pan.”

“That’s cooking,” Olivia assured him. “One step at a time.”

“You domesticated her,” Mickey told Mandy, shoving a handful of shredded cheese into his mouth. 

“And Ian still hasn’t domesticated you,” she admonished, grabbing the bag of cheese out of her brother’s hand. 

“Hilarious,” Mickey replied sarcastically, nudging his knee against Grumpy’s nose as the dog circled his legs, looking for cheese. “Go away.”

“Come here, baby,” Ian tsked, bending down to snuggle the dog, who huffed and lumbered away. 

“The fatty wants food not hugs,” Mickey stated.

“Suddenly I relate with Grumps,” Olivia joked, laying the tortillas on a plate. “Let’s do this. Where are we eating?”

“The table’s too small for all of us,” Mandy noted. 

“We’re not that formal. I know our swanky house is misleading,” Ian laughed as he began making putting together a taco on a paper plate, “but we can eat in the living room.”

“Bring me a couple” Mickey said, grabbing a beer from the refrigerator before heading into the other room.

“Yevvy, do you want me to make yours, too?” Ian asked as he fixed his husband’s dinner. 

“I can do it,” Yev answered easily. 

“My nephew’s an independent guy,” Mandy beamed, tickling Yevgeny’s side. “Up and coming chef, badass baseball player, and adorable as hell. How did you come from your father?”

“I heard that, skank,” Mickey called from the other room.

“Yev’s all Mickey,” Ian complimented. “Both amazing men.”

Yevgeny’s cheeks blazed red as he mumbled a “thank you,” and ducked out of the kitchen to join his father in the living room. 

As they ate, Mandy and Olivia told stories of their New York City escapades while Ian imagined how nice it would be to get away from Chicago and all the mistakes that lined its streets. 

“Can Dmitri come over tonight?” Yevgeny asked as Mandy collected the empty plates.

“No,” Mickey answered quickly. “Not gonna happen, Yev.”

“Oh come on,” Yev groaned. “He’ll be chill. He’s my friend, you can’t keep him away forever.”

“Watch me,” Mickey challenged.

“Is this the kid who has a crush on Ian?” Mandy asked. “You won’t let him over, Mick?You are so jealous. He’s twelve!”

“Really?” Yevgeny sighed shaking his head at Ian and Mickey, who were both shooting dirty looks at Mandy. “You two made a big deal about keeping it low key about Jeremy and you’re out there telling everyone.”

“Not everyone, just me,” Mandy corrected. “And I’m guessing it’s another kid, huh?”

“Ding, ding, ding, asshole,” Mickey replied with a roll of his eyes.

“What’s the problem with Dmitri?” Olivia asked, ever curious about all things Milkovich. 

“He’s a little fucking delinquent,” Mickey answered, much to Yevgeny’s chagrin. “He got caught stealing, pops pills, gets in fights... am I missing anything Yev?”

“I would say your hypocrisy but you’re full of that,” his son shot back. 

“Watch it,” Mickey warned, eyebrows flying high. 

“You weren’t any different at twelve,” Mandy reminded Mickey, as if he’d forgotten. 

“Yeah, and look where that got me.”

“Touché,” Mandy nodded. “But you’re doing well now. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“I don’t, but that don’t mean that Yev’s gotta learn the hard way like I did.”

“Inspirational father. You slay, Mickey Milk,” Olivia complimented, drawing the middle finger from a blushing Mickey.

“Why do you want to hang out with a kid like that?” Ian asked Yev. “He’ll only pull you down.”

“Why did you?” Yevgeny questioned, all sass. 

“Well, first of all, I was a kid like that, too. It wasn’t just your dad. And second, I was trying to bang,” Ian admitted, earning him a look of disgust from his stepson. “You fucking asked, man.”

“I’m not trying to do that,” Yevgeny stated.

“What are you trying to do then? Prove you’re some kinda tough kid?” Mickey asked. 

“Your last name does that on its own,” Mandy chimed in. “Do we still had that reputation?” she asked Ian, who nodded. 

“It’s a legacy,” he answered.

“You can’t wipe that shit away,” Mickey added. “No matter how hard you fucking try.”

“It sounds like this kid isn’t worth the hassle,” Olivia shrugged. “I learned along time ago that when you mess around with fire you get burnt.”

“Queen of cliches,” Mandy teased. 

“That’s Ian,” Mickey corrected. “Did you miss his coronation?”

“Between the two of them there’s some fierce competition,” Mandy relented, laughing at Olivia’s faux insulted pout. “Why don’t you invite the one with the hots for Ian over, Yev? Everyone in the house can sit around and talk about how gorgeous he is.”

“Yeah I’ll pass,” Yevgeny replied, crinkling up his nose.

“I’ll try not to be insulted by your disgust, Yevvy,” Ian grinned, taking a sip of his water. 

As inane as the conversation was it felt nice for Ian to be engaged in light banter that took his mind off everything it kept attempting to focus on, though he knew he shouldn’t. He knew if all hell broke loose again, the people in that room would have his back, and while it was a good feeling, he didn’t want them to have a reason to prove it. 

Doing his best to push thoughts of Theo to the back of his brain, Ian decided to try to have a nice night with the people who made it easier to believe he could. He reminded himself, again, that nothing had happened yet and willed himself to press forward either the delusion that nothing would.

“How about instead of inviting a friend over you let me try to beat your ass at Doom,” Ian suggested, tilting his head at Yev. 

“It’s not even fair when you play me,” Yevgeny chuckled, “and beating you all the time has gotten mad boring.”

“You should play me and see if you have what it takes to get a V against me,” Olivia challenged Yev. 

“Are you serious right now?” Yevgeny laughed. “Do you think you actually have a chance?”

“Be careful, Yev. Liv’s a gamer,” Mandy informed him. 

“A gamer?” Ian asked surprised. “Since when?”

“I’d say birth, but realistically it was more like five,” Olivia replied, cracking her knuckles. “Are we doing this?”

Yevgeny shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Are you scared you’re going to get beat by a girl?” Olivia teased.

“Not so much a girl, but it would be pretty embarrassing if a middle-aged woman took me down,” Yev replied, causing everyone but Olivia to howl at the response. 

“Now it’s on,” Olivia decided. “No mercy.”

“No mercy,” Yevgeny agreed, shaking her outstretched hand.

“I’m like fifteen to twenty years out from middle-aged, you little shit,” she added.

“You’re closer than me,” Yev smirked.

“And all of a sudden he’s Mickey,” Mandy said, bumping her nephew with her hip. 

“My smartass boys,” Ian crooned ruffling Yevgeny’s hair as he walked by to get Mickey another beer. 

His guys has grit and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He needed to channel some of it and keep it together. For them... and for himself.


	11. You and Me

“Ian,” Mickey whispered, placing a kiss on each vertebrae of his husband’s spinal column. 

“Hmm?” Ian hummed sleepily. “What time is it?”

“You don’t wanna know,” Mickey assured him, grinning at the sigh Ian emitted as he trailed down his mouth to his man’s tailbone. 

The long weekend had been packed with Mandy, Olivia, and Yevgeny. While it had been nice to have a home full of happy people, and several distractions for Ian, Mickey couldn’t help but miss having his husband all to himself. He wasn’t convinced he would ever get enough of Ian, worried he’d always crave more than was humanly possible for anyone to give. It was as if he felt compelled to make up for every missed minute over the course of the years. Though the topic of children hadn’t come up in a while, Mickey hoped it never did again. There were few things he would want less than a baby in their lives, taking up their time, forcing them apart. 

“What’re you doing?” Ian asked with a breathy chuckle as Mickey’s tongue continued into his crack. 

“You already know that, don’t you?” Mickey flirted. “What I’m fucking doing... you already know. Turn over.”

Ian did as he was told, smiling up at Mickey as he yanked redhead’s legs up and rested them on his shoulders so to gain better access to Ian’s ass. “You’re doing my job.”

“You can’t eat your own ass.”

“I would rather eat yours anyway,” Ian said, letting his head fall back as Mickey licked a fat stripe over his exposed hole. 

“Can’t let you have all the fun,” he replied, cupping his hand on Ian’s tight balls and massaging them gently as he circled his tongue around the puckered ring. 

Peeking up as he went to work, Mickey watched as Ian licked his palm and dropped it to his dick, beginning to tug it rhythmically. That cock. He’d been obsessed with it since the moment he saw it all those years ago. No matter how well aquatinted he’d become with it since the first time, Mickey could still remember how shocked he was when skinny, little Ian Gallagher pulled down his boxers to reveal he was packing a big fucking pole in his pants. It had taken Mickey aback. How could it not have? A kid that cute should’ve never been blessed with a cock like that. It made it way too easy to fall for for him, which Mickey had and continued to do, over and over and over again. 

“Fuck, that feels so good, Mick,” Ian complimented, pulling in a shaky inhale as Mickey continued to jam his tongue between his cheeks. 

Peeling his lips off his husband, Mickey raised an eyebrow and said, “Tell me when when you’re close and I’ll swallow you down.”

“You’re don’t wanna fuck?” Ian asked surprised. 

Mickey shrugged, “I mean, I’m always down to fuck, but I low key wanna make you feel good.”

“Low key?” Ian smirked. “Yev’s rubbing off on you, huh?”

“It’s kinda like, you know, quietly or some shit. Like sorta invested but not really.”

“I know what it means,” Ian laughed. “But you using it...”

“What about me using it?” Mickey challenged. “I like it. It makes sense. You keep laughing and you’re gonna high key piss me off.”

“High key,” Ian repeated, holding his side as he laughed harder. 

“Means a-whole-fucking-lot,” he informed, unable to stop himself from chuckling, too. “Can I go back to rimming you now?”

Ian shook his head, still giggling. “What other phrases have you ganked from the middle school set? Are you going to start saying ‘literally’ after every statement?”

“If you don’t high key shut the fuck up I’m literally going to beat your ass instead of eat it,” Mickey retorted, smiling when Ian wrapped his arms around his waist and body-slammed him down to the bed. 

“You’re talking a lot of shit for someone who should have his mouth full,” Ian noted, hunching over to slot their lips together. 

Snaking his hand behind his husband’s head, Mickey pulled him in closer and slid his tongue into the hollow of Ian’s cheek. 

Ian tilted his head, deepening the kiss even further, kissing Mickey warm, wet and wanton.

“I love kissing you, baby,” Mickey crooned, feeling the sentiment reverberate in his bones. Sometimes he was in awe of the fact that he got to kiss Ian Gallagher... Ian Milkovich whenever he wanted, that there was no distance or time between them, that Ian was his and he was Ian’s... for life.

“I love you,” Ian promised, “Seriously, I high key love you, literally, so much.”

“Fuck off,” Mickey tsked, rolling his eyes as Ian attacked him with smooches. “You think you’re a funny guy, don’t you?”

“I know I am,” he corrected. “You think I am too.” Slowly, Ian began to roll his hips so his cock knocked against Mickey’s as their kisses grew more passionate. 

“You like telling me what I think, don’t you?” Mickey whispered, moaning as Ian began to suck on the spot of his neck that drove him absolutely crazy. 

“Yeah.”

“Tell me what I’m thinking about right now then.”

“You’re thinking about my dick leaking all over yours and how you want me to lap that shit up,” Ian said, his voice muffled by skin. He laughed when Mickey started put pressure on his shoulders, pushing him down. “I’ll take that as a confirmation that I’m right.”

“That wasn’t what I was thinking about, but now I am, so get to it,” Mickey smirked, instantly sighing when Ian took his cock into his mouth. “I was supposed to be taking care of you.”

“Taking care of you is me taking care of myself,” Ian said, licking the length of Mickey’s shaft. “My everything.”

“Mmm,” Mickey groaned, tangling his fingers in Ian’s hair as he bobbed on his cock. “Fuck. How did I get so goddamn lucky?”

“It started with a gun and tire iron. You were a cocky motherfucker,” Ian reminded him taking Mickey back down his throat. 

“You made me weak way before that,” Mickey admitted. “Fucked around in the Kash n Grab to see your goofy ass.”

“You fucked around in the Kash n Grab to steal Pringles and Gatorade,” Ian disagreed, sitting up to study his husband’s face. “You had Kash by the balls so it was easier to just get your shit there.”

“I wanted to have you by the balls, but it never hurt that Kash was a fucking pussy,” Mickey replied, rubbing his forehead. “I can’t believe you fucked the dude.” 

“I was fourteen,” Ian stated as if it was an excuse and not an abomination. 

“My dick’s getting soft. Pedophelia will low key kill wood.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Ian protested, taking Mickey’s semi into his hand and beginning to pump it. “Why are we talking about this again?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not into it anymore,” Mickey decided, knocking Ian’s hand off and tucking himself under the covers. 

“You woke me up and now you’re going back to bed and leaving me with this?” Ian exclaimed, gesturing down to his hard-on. 

“You were two years older than Yev, fucking some Slurpee seller, thinking you were in love. That’s some twisted shit.”

“That’s some South Side shit,” he corrected, yanking the comforter off Mickey so he could cuddle into his body. “And who said anything about love? I’ve only loved you. My whole life, you’re the only person I’ve ever been in love with.”

Mickey raised one eyebrow, an indication that he didn’t forget the Theodore in the room. 

“Don’t,” Ian warned.

“Don’t make some crazy ass statements when I know they’re not true,” Mickey warned right back. “I’m not gonna fucking lay here like a tool and not call you out on your bullshit.”

“I never loved him like I love you,” Ian insisted. “He never owned me like you do. My heart, my body, he never had me all the way because you always did.”

“But you were gonna marry him...”

“Fuck you,” Ian spat, turning over abruptly and taking the blanket with him. 

“You’re not into hearing the truth right now?” Mickey asked, tugging the blanket back. “I’ll lie to you then. Kash wasn’t a Chester and you weren’t engaged to Senator Silver Sally.”

“I hate you,” Ian pouted.

“You’re lying too then,” Mickey stated, wrapping himself, and the comforter, around Ian’s back. “All I wanted to do was eat your hole.”

“Maybe it’s a full moon.”

“If it was my face would still be in your crack.”

Ian giggled despite himself. “I love you.”

“That was a quick turnaround,” Mickey noted. “Hate to love in three seconds.”

“Just hold me, alright?” Ian said with a yawn. “Tight.”

Mickey gave Ian a constrictor squeeze before kissing his shoulder blade softly. “I love you.”

They laid in silence for a pause, both lost in thoughts bigger than the moment, about the mistakes they made, their pasts, their future.

“What made us the way we are?” Ian wondered, his voice tentative as if the question was an assault on the quiet of their bedroom. 

“I don’t know,” Mickey answered honestly, thinking life would be much easier if they could pinpoint one impetus. “There’s a shit ton of things if could be.”

“I wish I didn’t think about this so much,” Ian admitted, “It was easier when I wasn’t thinking at all.”

“I know.”

“Thank fuck I have you.”

“Thank fuck,” Mickey agreed. “Me and you, man.”

“Me and you.”


	12. Aspirations

When Theo had called Ian to set up a lunch, Ian knew what he and his ex-fiancé would be discussing. He wished Theo would have just told him over the phone and ripped the bandaid off, but everything was far more complicated than that. Ian had begged Mickey to come, knowing his husband would be just as impacted by what was to come as he was. Surprisingly, Mickey had agreed, but his work schedule made having the meeting in a timely fashion completely impossible, thus Ian was left to face the inevitable all on his own. 

As soon as he entered Luciano’s Cucina, the hostess led him to a private room where Theo, Margaret, and Sean were already seated, engaged deeply in conversation. 

“Hey,” Ian greeted, awkwardly shoving his hands into his pockets. Somehow he became very aware of the ring adorning his finger, a symbol that had became so much a part of him that he typically forgot it was there. 

Theo knew he was married. It wasn’t like Ian was trying to hide the fact. It was more that facing his ex made Ian recall that he’d once worn a ring that Theo gave him, a ring he should have never accepted. 

“Ian,” Theo said, hurrying to his feet. His tone was less formal than Ian had wished it would be, especially in the company of the public relations pitbulls who remained seated at the large mahogany circular table. 

It seemed as though Theo was going to hug him, but at the last moment the senator thought better of it and extended his hand. Dutifully, Ian shook it, wondering if it was Theo’s palm that was clammy or his own.

“Man, you look good,” Theo muttered, shaking his head at the sight of Ian. 

Ian didn’t know how to respond, so he said, “you, too,” even though it was a lie. Theo looked exhausted, with bags under his grey eyes and a pale hue to his typically tan skin. If Ian hadn’t already convinced himself of the topic of discussion, he would have thought Theo had asked him there to tell Ian he was ill, though there would be no reason to do so. Their lives were no longer tied together the way they had been, and yet, they still were in so many ways. 

“Have a seat,” Theo directed, gesturing toward an empty chair at the table. “You remember Margaret and Sean?” 

Ian had spent years of his life living under their thumbs, placed under a microscope they used to tighten and control Theo’s image.

“I couldn’t forget them even if I tried,” Ian said. He had tried and it was true. Margaret appeared unamused by his statement, while Sean seemed to want to smile, but remembered that he shouldn’t... so he didn’t. 

“We could say the same for you.”

“And lord have we tried. The press just won’t let go.”

“You’re still the most interesting part of me, I suppose,” Theo figured in a way that revealed how raw the statement was. 

Ian cleared his throat. “I’m sure that’s not true. I’m guessing that I’m here to hear some interesting news.”

“Some amazing news,” Sean corrected, beaming at Theo. 

Draping a napkin over his lap, Ian nodded a thank you to the waiter who placed a steaming hot roll on his bread plate. “I’m looking forward to hearing it then.” 

He wasn’t.

“Well, I decided that now is as good a time as any to throw my hat in the ring for the presidency. I’ll, of course, need to win the democratic primaries to get on the big ticket, but the intention is that in a year from November, I’ll be the president-elect.”

“That’s...” Ian searched for words when all that was in his head was scrambled emotions, “wow.” He’d known that was why he was there, but hearing Theo actually say it out loud was jarring. “President of the United States of America. Wow.”

“Yes. It’s a long-shot considering, you know, I’m gay, but the pollsters seem to think I have a chance.”

“A great chance,” Margaret stated. “And that’s why we need to get all our ducks in a row.”

“I’m a duck,” Ian mused, mostly to himself. He wished it would have been fully to himself when he earned a death-glare from Margaret. 

“You’re more like the king goose,” Sean interjected. “You should be a duck, but somehow you’re more important than all the rest, and louder.”

“Enough of the ducks,” Theo chided. “Let’s move on with this, alright?”

His advisors nodded, sitting tight lipped as the waiter delivered several plates of family style food. As soon as he exited, the conversation was back on. 

“So, while we wish it could be avoided, you’re still a part of the narrative,” Sean began, “and you’ll need to be trained in how to field the press that will be coming your way. We’re talking everything you went through a few years ago with the local papers times ten. We’ll be grappling with national and international news syndicates and gossip sites.”

“We’re asking Ian if he will participate in training,” Theo reminded Sean. He turned to look at Ian. “You don’t have to do any of this, but it won’t go away if you ignore it. I want you to have the right tools to deal with what comes.”

“And we want you to say the right things,” Margaret added. “Things that won’t sabotage Theo more than you already have.”

“Maggie,” Theo warned.

“It’s okay,” Ian mumbled, his throat tightening from the anxiety. “Tell me what I need to do.”

“First of all, have some salmon,” Theo suggested, placing the tongs on a piece of fish and offering it to Ian. 

“Thanks,” Ian said, holding up his plate so the older man could serve him. Though he didn’t have an appetite, he intended to choke it down. 

The senator served Margaret and Sean, while Ian wondered if he was purposely trying to stall or if he had recently turned into an Italian grandmother.

“We don’t have all day,” Margaret bristled as she took a bite of the food. “We need to get finished with this so we can take care of the rest of our to do list.” She turned to look Ian dead in the eye. “We want you to take the same approach you did when the story broke a few years ago.”

“Addiction , Bipolar, rough childhood. Those are the focus points,” Sean added. “When asked about what happened, say you were in a dark place in your life and you regret pulling Senator Goodwyn down with you.”

“That’s harsh,” Theo admonished. “Try again.”

“Where’s the lie?” Margaret pressed. “They will hound him. He can’t simply say ‘no comment.’ It won’t do. This is a presidential campaign. If we try to ignore something your rivals will exacerbate it.”

“I don’t want to tell the whole world about my skeletons,” Ian said softly.

“Well, you should have thought about that before you entered into a relationship with a man who had political aspirations. We were forthright regarding the implications since the beginning,” Margaret stated. “They’ll already know all about you, it’s just how you approach the knowledge.”

“Okay, okay,” Theo sighed, dropping his fork and letting it clank on the plate. “I didn’t invite Ian here so we could berate him.”

“There’s a difference between honesty and degradation,” Sean told Theo, who shook his head. “Ian is a treasure trove of opposition for your opponents. This needs to be handled.”

“Is the mob about to storm through the door and light me up?” Ian asked, only half kidding. “Is that how you’re planning to ‘handle’ me?”

“Don’t be silly,” Margaret said, unamused. 

They all took sips of their drinks, as if attempting to settle into some collective thought.

“Are you still married to the man you cheated with?” Sean asked, glancing down at the folder beside his plate. “Mickey Milkovich? I couldn’t find any paperwork for divorce.”

“Because there aren’t any papers for divorce,” Ian huffed, insulted by the assumption. “We’re very happily married. I did a lot of stupid shit when I was manic and high but being with Mickey was never one of them. He’s the love of my life.” Glancing in Theo’s direction, he muttered a “sorry,” which Theo promptly waved off.

“It’s been a while,” the senator stated, but Ian easily saw beyond his words. “Maybe you could just say something like that, something about making bad decisions in the past but how now you’re healthy and happy.”

Margaret sighed. “If he does that, it would be nice if he could throw you a bone and say that he kept more secrets from you than just his cheating. That you weren’t aware of the stripping, porn, army debacle. It would be nice if voters thought you were oblivious instead of questioning your decision making skills.”

“He was honest about all of that,” Theo said, shaking his head. “I’m not going to paint him as a liar.”

“Not a liar, an omitter,” Sean corrected. 

“It’s fine,” Ian decided. “I’ll tell people I didn’t tell you if that would make things better.”

“It would,” Margaret said, looking expectantly at Theo. “It would be very helpful.”

“Only if you’re comfortable,” Theo began tentatively. 

Ian nodded. “Do you really think this will be the focus?”

“Undoubtedly,” Sean confirmed. “This is all they have on Theo. They’ll try to exploit it from every angle.”

“Great,” Ian grumbled, pushing the fish around on his plate.

“Here’s a list of what we ask of you,” Margaret said tersely, sliding a document across the table toward Ian. 

Perusing over the list of rules and expectations, Ian began to feel nauseous and overwhelmed. He wasn’t ready to face a nation of assholes who were intent to pry into his past. He was so different than he’d been then. He’d changed so much, yet, he knew it didn’t matter. People wanted to believe the salacious scandals rather than focus on the capacity humans had for growth. 

“Is that all?” Ian asked, clearing his throat. 

Theo and his team nodded and Ian rose to his feet.

“Let me walk you out,” Theo offered, but his handlers both immediately barked “no.”

“We don’t need somebody snapping a picture,” Sean reminded, placing his hand on Theo’s elbow. “He’s a big boy, Theo. He’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be fine won’t you, Ian?” Margaret asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll be fine,” Ian confirmed, feeling anything but. 

Ian would talk to Mickey. Mickey would know what to do. Then he’d be fine.


	13. I’ll be back soon!

I saw a lot of people wondering if I abandoned this fic or HTASSH ... I didn’t! I got a major writing job and I’ve been busy! Since I last updated I finished a novel and am now working on a movie. I will complete both of these stories!!


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